


Stripes: The Adventure of the Philosopher’s Stone.

by PDnotTiger



Series: Stripes [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Characters Reading Harry Potter Books, Gen, Not Epilogue Compliant, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Timeline Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2020-07-25 11:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20025181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PDnotTiger/pseuds/PDnotTiger
Summary: What happens when the victim of a terrible incident they can barely remember is given a scholarship to the other side of the world, to be in the same year as Harry Potter?





	1. Chapter One: A Series of Occasionally Tedious Prefaces.

I am the teller of this story, yet I am not a person who was involved in it. I am merely the wind, which carries this set of tales into the grand expanses of the minds of those who read it. The one who has fashioned this tale from various thoughts and ideas, some of their own, some borrowed, wishes to impress upon you nine things for you to keep in mind as you read this.

First, Joanne Kathleen Rowling created this literary world, and it is she who must be given the credit, approbation and appreciation for the ideas that she has poured into it.

Second, the author lays claim to their own ideas, along with recognising some of their points of inspiration. White Hound Fan Fiction is one such person who has stirred the author’s thoughts about these stories.

Third, this story takes place in a time that you may not be expecting it to, this is because a certain raven-haired, green-eyed, bespectacled young man with a lightning bolt scar, was born in 1991 rather than 1980.

Forth, the one who has seen fit to write this story, has written in their own characters, all of whom are simply ordinary people who possess real strengths and weaknesses. One of these originals is a very close and careful examination of themselves, with all their many and occasionally confronting flaws, plus their talents and strengths.

Fifth, Jo’s canon will be treated as somewhat of a guide to these tales but is not as binding on this series as it is on others. Jo’s epilogue and her work: _The Cursed Child_, will not have any bearing on the outcome of this series.

Sixth, although those who write things like this owe the ability to play around in this world to Jo, she is not exhaustive in her descriptions about the world which she created. As such the author wants me to tell you that, they feel that this leaves plenty of room of reimagining a few things.

Seventh, there will probably be some “reading of the books” about the place, although what form that will take is something which I, the humble wind, shall not dare to spoil.

Eighth, some of the original characters are, well… shall we say, survivors of a rather terrible run in some of those who seek to play God and care not for the consequences.

And Ninth, this series is rated as being for a mature audience due to the author’s somewhat Australian proclivity for rather colourful and illustrative swearing or invective.

Now I must let you get on with hopefully enjoying the fruits of the author’s labours. You, dear reader shall, most likely, not hear me speak directly to you again in this series.

### *~*~*

It was the 1st of November 1992, and John Major was sitting in the Cabinet Room going through some paperwork shortly after a meeting had broken up, when a rather over-excited Downing Street staffer burst into the room, calling after the Prime Minister rather breathlessly. It was evident that the young female civil servant had been running through the rooms and corridors, to find her boss with something obviously very important to tell him. She skidded to a halt and managed in a just a few seconds to catch her breath enough to tell her Prime Minister what was going on.

‘Prime Minister, there’s a very odd woman outside. She says she needs to see you, she’s rather insistent,’ she said, still huffing and puffing.

‘Right, I suppose you had better send her in then,’ the Prime Minister said, as gently as he could. ‘Thank you, Emily.’

Emily ducked out of the room quickly, likely in the hopes of off-loading someone who could be considered a bit of a problem visitor onto the Prime Minister, and then get them out of Number Ten. A few minutes after Emily left the room, the door to the cabinet room was opened to admit a rather austere looking woman dressed in a style of clothing best described as very odd. To Major she seemed to be wearing clothes more suited to the 17th or 18th centuries. Yet, the Minister of Magic Millicent Bagnold was already known to the Prime Minister, they had met at least twice before, and each time had caused a similar amount of consternation amongst the staff in Downing Street.

‘Good afternoon, Prime Minister,’ she greeted smoothly.

‘Good afternoon, Millicent,’ Major replied. ‘What did you need to discuss with me today?’

Minister Bagnold sat down at the Cabinet Table across from the Prime Minister.

‘Lord Voldemort has been defeated, and he has disappeared,’ Minister Bagnold began. ‘We currently believe that he may have been killed, but we have not been able to confirm this.’

The Prime Minister leaned back in his chair and blew out a breath.

‘Was anyone killed or injured?’

Bagnold hesitated a moment.

‘Yes, James and Lily Potter were murdered, leaving their son Harry as an orphan. And a man by the name of Peter Pettigrew.’

The Prime Minister looked a little shaken by this news.

‘I expect that I’ll get an official report on this later, sent through the striped box,’ Major began cautiously. ‘But is there anything that you need help with?’

‘Thank you, Prime Minister. But, no, there is nothing that we need Whitehall’s assistance with.’

Minister Bagnold decided to turn to some other topics which required a short discussion, however that only took up a few minutes before both politicians had to prepare themselves for a meeting they would attend together. They would be travelling together from Downing Street to Buckingham Palace, to tell The Queen about what had just happened. The Prime Minister earnestly hoped that the violence that the magical community of the United Kingdom and Ireland had suffered would now calm down for a while, giving the ordinary people a break from the tension and fear that had marked the last few years.

### *~*~*

Cain Joseph Blackthorne despaired of himself, he had been working at his great project for since 1988 and achieved very little success. Even though he had managed to establish several laboratory bases around the world, to reduce the risk of being discovered and having his work halted, he still didn’t have any more than a handful of successes, nowhere near enough for his original purposes. He was now doubting his intentions for this project, it had all become far too complicated compared to when he started out.

And the biggest complicating factor that had arrived in late 1992, the little orphaned baby girl he had found still clutched in her dead mother’s arms. Her mother had been attacked, with either spells, guns or knives, based on the deep wounds etched into her flesh. No doubt she was hoping to find a little shelter, and maybe some help. The two of them were laid out across his doorstep, the mother was probably trying to find a place to hide, not quite realising that she so gravely wounded and thinking only of the safety of her child. He would come to realise that he couldn’t keep on like this, in many ways, for her sake.

He had taken her in, and at the time had thought that she was a perfect “candidate” for his great project of experiments, he used her in his most powerful experiment, along with a little boy his network had kidnapped in Australia, only a year older than her. But he’d never counted on Bastet, as he’d named her, to come to love him as a daughter would love her father. He never expected Bastet to become his daughter, for him to fall so helplessly in love with her, for him to feel that sacred bond with her that only a parent can feel. She became Bastet Alexia Blackthorne, simply because she was the bearer of an untainted heart which glowed with kindness and love, and he was losing the will to continue with his grand project.

Eventually, Bastet would be old enough to understand what the man she considered to be her father was doing with his life, and she would hate him for it. He’d never intended to become a parent, but now that he had a daughter, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, even if that meant turning away from what he had thought was the most important thing in his life. He would gladly give up his life’s work, if he could keep her with him, if he could be honest with her and show her how he’d come to embrace what he had felt was an all-consuming darkness work on those experiments, and how she had been the one to lead him back into the light.

He hoped that she would understand but couldn’t blame her if she hated everything about his very existence once she learned the truth. He had now come to loathe and hate what he had once been, and all it had taken to change him was the complete and unconditional love of a perfect little heart. Others might say he’d gone soft, but he knew the truth, she had given him the strength and courage to begin to stand up to his demons and he was going to grab this opportunity with both hands.

### *~*~*

Prime Minister John Major was taking some time to relax a little in the wake of what had been a somewhat bitter and damaging row in the Conservative Party, which he had sought to resolve by demanding that the Party “put up or shut up”, otherwise known as the “back me or sack me” approach or “manoeuvre”. As far as he could tell, his re-election as Leader of the Conservative Party had not dealt with the problems that continued to dog his Premiership.

It was in this frame of mind that the Prime Minister read the latest of a series of reports, all contained in purple folders and transmitted to him through the box known as “Old Stripey”, a despatch box in blue leather with a red horizontal stripe across its middle. They laid out a series of problems and criminal activities, that he could see would become a huge scandal, especially the abductions of young children under three years of age.

The Prime Minister was simply aghast at what was going on, but he was reassured slightly because the perpetrators were being hunted down by the appropriate authorities who would no doubt, throw the book at whoever was responsible. In the meantime, this was a continuing source of fear and panic for the public, as some of the horrors of these cases became more publicly known.

It was these details which continued to frighten and shock the public, as it became evident that a group of scientists and alchemists, led by a rather nasty megalomaniac, had decided that they had the right to play God with the lives, minds, and bodies of a number of small children. Cain Blackthorne wanted an army of scientifically and alchemically enhanced super soldiers, to serve his purpose of global conquest. However, Blackthorne himself seemed to be losing his enthusiasm for his project, some speculated that this was because he had effectively gained an adopted daughter.

John Major thought of how his own experiences of fatherhood had changed him irreversibly and wondered what that might do to someone like Blackthorne. It seemed from some of the reports that the presence of this child was leading the alchemist away from the darkness he had so readily embraced. The Prime Minister earnestly hoped that whatever light was leading him away from his dark path, would succeed in bringing him towards his own redemption.

### *~*~*

Escaping had been a mistake, he was certain that Voldemort’s sympathisers had deliberately let him know that they had his daughter, in East Timor, just to lure him out. They were gambling on his ability to get out of the prison facilities used by his Australian hosts and using the ongoing crisis around the independence referendum in East Timor as a shield for their own violent activities.

Blackthorne knew he had to raise what was left of his network of associates and contacts to be able to rescue Bastet, he needed a loyal gang at his back if was going to pull his daughter free of the Death Eaters clutches. He knew what they wanted, could his methods be used to bring their master back. He’d spent two years sitting in prison contemplating what precisely it was that he had done, in that time Bastet had been placed with a foster family in the UK. Apparently, they had not been capable of protecting the most precious jewel ever to enter his life, as the Death Eaters had found and kidnapped her. He felt as though he was being treated to a very healthy dose of poetic justice, that he was now being given a very good idea of what he and his associates had put the families of those they kidnapped through.

He had planned his confrontation with Voldemort’s sycophants as meticulously as possible, but he knew he might still have to watch them kill his daughter if he screwed this up. He had exhausted his network in raising his rescue force, and some had made it clear that this would be the last favour they would ever give him, especially in the wake of the dismantling of his project network and how that was done. He’d put a great many noses out of joint, however the fruits of his project if they could be called that were now securely hidden away, and he’d thrown many associates under the bus, to reduce his own sentence.

Most of the people he had taken into his organisation were not really anyone he could really consider either as friends or loyal associates. This was mostly since he had favoured the idea of scouring orphanages for “candidates” for the project, but those who were asked to find “candidates” often simply resorted to kidnappings. He had expressed his displeasure with this forcefully, but still made use of a small number of the abducted “candidates”, which meant they took it as a tacit acceptance of their methods. He made it clear when he surrendered to the Australian Federal Police, that he had not ordered or organised any abductions, and he tried to dissuade his associates from carrying them out. The Police were not at all sympathetic to his assertions but warmed to his defence as the others he turned over to them were captured and interviewed.

When it had become clear that certain members of his organisation were going to continue to experiment on abductees, Blackthorne called it quits. He had sunk eight years of all-out effort, from 1988 to 1996, into this enterprise. He had emptied the two vaults full of gold he had spent fourteen years carefully building up to fund this endeavour, but then twenty-two years after he left Hogwarts and Ravenclaw Tower to prove to the world that he was the greatest master of the magical arts, sciences and alchemy the world would ever see, he had abandoned his grand project.

And now he was in East Timor to face a ragtag collection of Death Eaters, their hangers on, and many of those formerly part of his organisation he had burned. As he and his small posse of allies moved through the jungle only one thought crystallised in his mind, his daughter is getting out of here alive, even if he doesn’t.

Bastet. Will. Be. Safe.

### *~*~*

Senior Auror Alan Buckland had large and very grave doubts about the operation his superiors in the Australian Federal Police had assigned him to. The whole scheme seemed completely hair-brained, allow Cain Blackthorne to escape to rescue his daughter, so that they could catch the really nasty bastards who had been involved in his “project”. It sounded to him like a very good way of getting people killed, including Bastet. He also understood that if Bastet dies, Cain will lose all rational faculties and likely descend into a madness so complete and consuming that no-one will be able to stop him from taking whatever revenge he would feel he is owed.

Buckland had always opposed any operation plan which relied on a parent trying to protect their child, because if the shit hits the fan, that parent will lose all ability to be reasoned with and may lash out in their moment of pain or grief. Alan knew exactly why, he had a young family of his own, he knew that parents were capable of anything when protecting and defending their children. And he knew that when a parent lashes out in despair, no target is off limits except their young. Buckland knew one thing for certain about this op, Bastet must be kept safe and alive, without injury, or Cain would lose his rag permanently.

The squad of AFP Aurors deployed for this operation were preparing for the confrontation, hoping that the whole meeting wouldn’t be stumbled on by any INTERFET forces, as to their minds that was going to be a sure-fire way of getting people killed. They were ready and in place, now all they could do was wait, execute the plan and hope that would be enough to ensure their success.

### *~*~*

Prime Minister John Howard sat in his study at Kirribilli House carefully reading and re-reading the purple bound reports on what was now referred to as Operation Rosewood, the affairs relating to capturing and prosecuting Cain Blackthorne and his associates. The Prime Minister found himself in an invidious position, two diggers lay dead and several others had been wounded in the wake of the final confrontation of the operation, and the AFP team had suffered some serious injuries. But Cain and Bastet Blackthorne were alive and Cain’s secrets were going to stay exactly where the alchemist had buried them, plus the authorities had finally captured the real masterminds behind the kidnappings and had ripped the guts out of the remnants of Lord Voldemort’s support network, especially the international arms.

The recommendations of several agencies that had reported their views to both himself and his counterpart Prime Minister Tony Blair had been handed to him to consider. The Attorney-General’s Department, Department of Magical Affairs, the Home Office, and the Ministry of Magic had all been arguing their piece with none of them able to agree on any course of action for the Blackthorne case. Only a recommendation from Australian Federal Police Senior Auror Alan Buckland dealt with all the critical dangers whilst remaining coherent, instead to devolving into various adventures in planning attempts at witness protection or a completely new identity for Bastet.

The major hitch in any plans to hide her using a new identity being that Bastet was extremely easy to identify, even if you were to artificially alter the most readily changeable aspects of her physical appearance, just where do you hide a young girl like that? Especially one who would not be of any genetic relation to the family she would have to be placed with. And then there was the problem that in order to make any story like that stick, various government agencies would have to illegally falsify or alter official records.

No, far better in Auror Buckland’s opinion, to go with the plan proposed by Cain Blackthorne himself: to let Bastet go with her father to some remote spot in the United Kingdom; straighten out the official records so that legally she is Bastet Alexia Blackthorne, adopted daughter of Cain; let Cain’s convictions stand whilst waiving the sentences, so he can personally protect his daughter; support the scholarship fund Cain had begun to set up to allow victims of his experiments to get a magical education, they would be offered the opportunity to go to Hogwarts if they wanted; use the confiscated resources of everyone captured to compensate victims and their families and provide funds for scholarships; and leaving the vault set up as a trust fund for Bastet and another containing some limited resources for Cain to support himself and his daughter unconfiscated.

Both Prime Ministers were inclined to accept the basics of this plan with some additions, principally, that the Ministry of Magic would be deemed negligent of their responsibilities and would effectively be charged with this if the Ministry or its officials did anything to interfere with the terms of the agreement. And to make this more complicated for the Ministry, Albus Dumbledore the headmaster of Hogwarts stated that he would not eject any students who came to his school as a result of the scholarship, unless the Minister for Magic gave the order personally. It was then also decided that giving such an order would break the agreement. The Prime Ministers also decided that the authorities should be keeping tabs on the Blackthornes, ensuring their safety and protection against anyone seeking retribution, but otherwise leave them alone. Any moves by the Ministry to arrest or incarcerate him, or any attempt to manipulate him through his daughter would break the agreement, and any failures to protect them would also break the agreement.

Now two months after the confrontation, John Howard had to give his governments final approval for this plan. He had strong objections from all the departments involved, they favoured prosecuting and hopefully banging up all the guilty parties, without fear or favour. But that would leave a very traumatised and frightened child vulnerable to serious harm. Try as they might to argue that the law and justice demanded that Cain Blackthorne go back to prison, they could not guarantee the safety and wellbeing of Bastet with Cain banged up. In the end all the agencies agreed, although reluctantly, that they had to put Bastet’s interests first, they had a vulnerable child who needed protection and that trumped all other considerations. John Howard, Tony Blair, and Millicent Bagnold signed the agreement, and began to put this whole business behind them.

### *~*~*

The mountains of England’s Peak District have provided good cover for the Blackthornes for the past four years, and no-one really suspected that Cain had kept his secrets as close to hand as he had done, or that he and Bastet were holed up somewhere well away from the magical community. Bastet was seen as nothing more than the local victim of those terrible people who abducted and experimented on children, thankfully the name Blackthorne had passed out of the public memory of muggles, obscured by the names of the scientists who could be firmly identified.

To Cain, Bastet seemed to be taking everything in her stride, she was doing well at primary school despite the occasional bullying incident, and her apparent lack of many close friends. But he was starting to suspect that she was, well, haunted by the differences she could so starkly see between herself and the other children. She had begun to ask questions about her birth parents and wondered what they had planned to name her. He couldn’t answer much; all he could say is that her birth mother had died protecting her and that she had tried to get to his door before she succumbed to her grievous injuries.

He also told Bastet that he had kept her mother’s things in a box, so that when Bastet was ready, she could try to find the answers he couldn’t give her. He also told her that the locket she wore all the time, everywhere, contained a brilliant golden pearl. This pearl was the result of all he could do to save the memories of the woman who had died on his doorstep, it contained all the intact memories of Bastet’s mother from mere minutes after she had died. It was as though he had taken the complete imprint of her soul and put it into that pearl, not enough to make a horcrux, or create a means of resurrection. But enough so that Bastet might one day have a chance to know a little of her mother.

The other two questions that Bastet had become fond of lately were:

‘How did I do that, Daddy?’ after a classic manifestation of accidental magic.

And, ‘Where will I go after primary school, Daddy?’

Magic and Hogwarts were clearly calling her to begin her own adventures, but Cain felt that she would be very isolated in the magical community. There was a lot of guilt attached to that, because he felt she would struggle because she carried his name. Her failure might be because of him. He just had to hope she would always be strong.

But at least he had one more year to think of a way to help her cope with that. He wasn’t sure that either of them would have been ready for Bastet to go to Hogwarts in 2002, thank goodness she was going in 2003.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, in Australia, Digger is a slang term meaning an Australian soldier.


	2. Chapter Two: A Beginning.

If the truth be told, he had been nervous right up until he’d put his earbuds in and hit play on his heavily enchanted Rio PMP-300, the soothing and confidence inspiring sounds of Roger Daltrey and the rest of The Who performing _Baba O Riley_ quickly filled his ears as he stepped towards the gleaming scarlet train.

He had always taken comfort in the music that was the soundtrack to his father’s generation, well that and Paul Kelly, he felt as though great music brings a strong emotional reaction or has something really important to say about life, the world and the human condition.

_Ha… the human condition,_ he thought to himself.

The word human seemed not to really apply to him anymore after all that had taken place very early in his life, the weird hazy memories were a little disorientating at times as he only got little flashes of some things that a three-year-old should never have to see.

The music shifted to _Sounds of Then_ by GANGgajang, and he thought back to reading parts of the incident report about himself after having said an emotional goodbye to his family at Australia House, he had had to wait before flooing to Kings Cross Platform 9 ¾, so he used the time to read a little about what had been done to him so long ago.

He knew that the warm fur coat that he grows himself was a result of this, along with what he had been told were a cross between the ears of a tiger and a kneazle, plus the long fuzzy tail with a mind of its own.

He had understood that the colour of his pelt was a bit unusual, snow white with stark black stripes, he looked a little like the bastard child of a wizard, a kneazle, and a white Bengal tiger. He felt ridiculous most of the time, mainly because it’s hard for anyone not to notice him; icy blue eyes, white fur with black stripes that turned into a rather full head of brown hair on his scalp, rapidly heading towards what his family guessed would be his full adult height of about 6′ 2″ or 185 cm, although his messed with metabolism wouldn’t let him get fat or scrawny, even if he tried really hard.

Despite what some people saw as a somewhat scary appearance, he was– is, in reality, a relatively quiet and gentle soul who just wished people would stop gawking at him, take their stickybeaking somewhere else and leave him and a small group of good friends alone to just be kids and do kids’ stuff.

Another music change, this time to the _Immigrant Song_ by Zed Zeppelin, and with it came some memories of summers spent in a caravan by the beach at Rye, under the hot Victorian summer sun, listening to the cricket on the radio, sailing off the beach with his family, and getting stickybeaks pointing and gawking at him, and then whispering about him to their friends. The Australian summer always left him with nowhere to hide, especially as he struggles to keep cool in that kind of dry heat.

But in spite of all that, on balance Melbourne had been good to him, he’d found some good mates who really didn’t care about what he looked like, or that strange things seemed to happen around him occasionally. They still are his best mates.

And then the letter had arrived from the Australian Government addressed to him, he didn’t recognise the name of the department on the top of the letter and the envelope. The letterhead was the standard format for Commonwealth Government letters, but it listed the agency as the Department of Magical Affairs. This seemed odd as if someone was having a lend of him.

But who would joke about this sort of thing, and why?

Nothing he and his family could think of in that respect made any sense unless it was just some random arsehole playing silly buggers with all of them, but then that seemed like a lot of effort to go to in aid of a practical joke.

In the end, it had been resolved as not a joke by the appearance of a case officer from the Department at the appointed time given in the letter, a kind, if harried-looking, young woman who seemed to have both a lot of cases to manage and all the time the family needed to ask questions.

### *~*~*

As he admired the gleaming scarlet loco, even after waiting at the High Commission he’d got there before everyone else, the piano intro to Cold Chisel’s _Khe Sanh_ started playing in his ears and he was reminded of how far away from home he was right now, the sunburnt country didn’t just feel like the other side of the world, it was the other side of the world. Thinking back, he remembered that his family had been somewhat suspicious of the motives behind an offer of a scholarship to Hogwarts in the UK, the DMA officer had said that would have to be matched with an Australian school enrolment, first primary then secondary, for the duration. High school enrolment was for the moment a two years later problem, but it would become something that had to be dealt with like everything people deferred for a while.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind him, and at that moment he was glad he already had his robes on under his cloak with the hood up and pulled tightly over his head. The hood had been charmed to hide both his ears and his face, and he was wearing gloves to hide the fur on his somewhat paw-like hands. His cousin had specifically woven the charms into the fabric of the navy-blue cloak to make it easier for him to blend into a crowd and avoid the awkwardness that goes with random strangers staring.

He turned slightly, just enough to see who it was behind him, he saw a young girl already wearing her Hogwarts robes who looked like she’d be a first-year student. She had long bushy brown hair, brown eyes, rather large front teeth and a determined air about her, as though she had something to prove to the world. He made note of her teeth but didn’t really think about too much, people think his own teeth are weird especially the very pronounced canines. This meant that he didn’t really feel it was fair to pass comment on other people’s teeth unless they clearly looked unhealthy or not taken care of properly.

He noticed that she was walking towards him, so he paused his Rio, which had by now moved on to ELOs _Mr Blue Sky_, and waited for her to join him in examining the locomotive steaming almost impatiently on the platform.

She stopped beside him and looked uncertain for a moment before he heard her take a breath that sounded like she was about to say something to him.

‘Do you like steam engines, then?’ she asked.

‘Yes, but I’m more familiar with the ones from home,’ he answered quietly.

‘You don’t sound British,’ she stated. That was certainly not a question.

He thought she sounded a little bossy in her manner, but he suspected that came from the same reasons that he could be brusque with people, the need to prove that you belong and convince people to give you some space to yourself. He is not a social butterfly.

‘That’s because I’m not British, I’m an Australian,’ he said simply.

His current companion looked confused and harrumphed softly to herself, evidently wondering why an Australian witch or wizard would be coming to Hogwarts for their magical education.

‘I don’t mean to be rude or anything…’ she started, _here we go,_ he thought to himself, ‘but, why would an Australian be coming to school at Hogwarts?’ she asked.

It was a fair question in his estimations, particularly as he doubted that she ever really met an Australian in her travels through her life so far.

‘I’ve been given a scholarship, which my family and I decided we’d be crazy not to take,’ he answered.

‘Why were you offered a scholarship?’

_Damn her smarts and questioning nature._

‘It’s part of a compensation agreement thing.’

‘What happened to require compensation?’

_Bugger, well there’s nothing for it, time to tell her the whole truth._

‘I can show you the results, but you need to stay calm and not freak out, ok?’

‘I’m sure it can’t be worse than my teeth, but ok.’

_The hell it can’t._

He turned to face her and loosened the draw on his hood before he huffed out a breath and pulled the hood back over his head revealing his very feline appearance to her.

‘Wow!’ she exclaimed softly, ‘is that… is it not a magic thing?’

‘No,’ he answered. ‘This is how I am now, no magical assistance required.’

He was surprised that she didn’t react by screaming or seem to be put off by it.

In fact, she seemed to be considering something very hard, judging by the look on her face.

‘Did an alchemist named Cain Blackthorne do this to you?’

_How the hell does she know that?_

‘Him along with few of his “friends”,’ he answered bitterly. ‘How did you know that?’

‘My little brother, he’s a year younger than me, he was very nearly snatched and subjected to the same “experiments” by him and his gang.’

He caught the sadness and bitterness in her voice as she answered, he felt like she understood how an “event” like that could really screw around with the family dynamic and could become something that was hard to get over. Being so young when it happened, he’d never really had the option of doing anything but going forward with as much positive feeling as he could muster. Mostly because he couldn’t really remember the time before the fur, but his brothers had always seemed somewhat sad and downcast about that time.

He supposed that had to do with them having 8-9 years additional life experience or something.

‘I’m sorry he’s had to deal with some of this as well,’ he said earnestly.

‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘But he doesn’t really don’t know anything different, so he’s just my happy little brother.’

She seemed happy that they were finding happiness in their lives despite what had been done to them.

‘It’s just my parents and relations who seem to be a bit bitter and sad about it all,’ she finished.

‘What about you?’ he asked.

‘He seems ok with it, so I don’t make a fuss and he likes that,’ she answered.

The conversation was interrupted by the sounds of students beginning to filter into the platform. He lifted his hood and walked briskly to the train, wanting to escape the crowd. His companion had been distracted by the noise and hadn’t noticed his departure until he was out of sight.

### *~*~*

He made his way to towards the end of the train before heaving his stuff on board with a little help from the guard and ducking into an empty compartment to try and relax a little before the train journey. He didn’t get a lot of time to himself before another boy, probably a first year as well, came in and started putting his stuff in the compartment, he’d been half dozing, half listening to _September_ by Earth, Wind & Fire at the time.

He noticed that he looked a little on the skinny and scrawny side, with charcoal black messy hair that seemed to have a mind of its own, and round metal-rimmed glasses. He went in and out a bit, and at one point two older looking ginger boys popped in to help him with his trunk before he returned to the platform for something.

Soon afterwards the whistle blew, and the black-haired boy returned to the compartment and settled in for the ride, his new companion apparently thought he was asleep. Apparently, shortly after the train had departed from King’s Cross another first-year boy had come in and settled down for the ride, he would be best described as having vibrant ginger hair and was covered in freckles. They got chatting a little and left him alone believing he was asleep.

This was how they got on until the jerk of the train crossing over a set of points was more severe than he had expected, and he bumped his head against the seat, it hurt.

‘Ow,’ he said, annoyed.

‘Hello, are you awake?’ asked the red-haired boy.

‘I am now, that hurt.’

_Well done “Captain Obvious”._

He rubbed the back of his head through the hood of his cloak.

‘I’m Ron Weasley by the way, this is Harry Potter,’ Ron pointed to his black-haired friend.

‘Hi,’ said Harry nervously.

‘Hello, I’m Peter Linnell.’

‘Are you from New Zealand?’ asked Harry.

_I’ll bet he’s seen kiwis on telly recently,_ Peter thought to himself.

‘Close, but no. I’m Australian.’

‘Wicked!’ said Ron, ‘I’ve never met an ostrayan before.’

‘Sorry, Australian,’ Peter said carefully. ‘I’ve really got to remember to speak more clearly.’

_Damn my lazy Aussie pronunciation!_

‘Oh, that’s that country with lots of deserts, beaches and weird animals isn’t it?’ asked Ron.

Peter thought that was a very simplistic if somewhat accurate description of what most foreigners know of Australia. He decided to head off the most obvious silly question that Aussies abroad get asked before Ron could put voice to it.

‘We have a lot of kangaroos, but they don’t like the cities and towns much, and we don’t keep them as pets,’ he said.

Ron seemed a little disappointed at that, but Harry decided to ask the next obvious question, ‘Why are you all covered up?’

Ron looked a little startled by this question, possibly because it seemed a little rude.

‘I don’t like to draw attention to my appearance,’ Answered Peter, quietly.

‘What’s wrong with your appearance?’ blurted Ron, now it was Harry’s turn to look stunned, that might’ve been more than a little rude… maybe.

‘Some people find it scary and weird.’

‘Why?’ both Harry and Ron had said at the same time, manners be damned.

_Crap, I guess I’ll have to show them._

‘Don’t flip out on me, ok?’ said Peter, both of his companions nodded.

Peter loosened the draw on the hood before reaching up and tentatively pushing it back over his head.

Both Harry and Ron gasped but didn’t seem particularly scared of his unusual appearance.

‘Wow, that’s not magic is it?’ asked Harry.

‘No, it’s how my body is now,’ Peter answered. ‘All “natural”.’

The bitter sarcasm of that statement seemed to put off further questions down that road.

‘Hey, is that an owl?’ Ron asked, getting distracted. He was pointing to the cage in the luggage rack above Peter’s head.

‘Yeah, this is Deak, he’s a Powerful Owl, they’re native to Australia.’

Peter lifted the cage down as he replied and gave Deak a good scratch behind his head, the owl closed his eyes and trilled loudly.

‘Hey buddy, you’ll get to stretch your wings when we get to Hogwarts,’ said Peter, taking his hand out of Deak’s feathers.

Deak looked like he wanted to say, _‘Who said you could stop?’_.

Peter noticed that Harry seemed to be curious about the other differences in being a wizard in Australia and the United Kingdom.

‘So, aside from the animals and plants, what’s different about being a wizard in Australia?’

‘Well, for one thing, we get taken to see a wand-smith when we’re six, to get the materials matched to us and have the wand made to fit your hand specifically,’ Peter answered quietly.

‘Why six?’ asked Ron, Harry appeared confused by this statement as well.

‘The timing has more to do with when we start primary school, we start learning some simple stuff to control our magic from then, so we need our wands that early to help with that,’ replied Peter, very matter-of-factly.

‘So, what’s your wand made of?’ Ron’s curiosity was getting the better of him.

Peter replied with a question that surprised his fellow travellers, ‘Which one?’

Ron was wide-eyed as he spluttered a reply, ‘You have more than one?!’

‘I know that’s not a normal thing, but yes,’ explained Peter. ‘One that was made for me back home, and one from Ollivander’s.’

He could probably have explained everything without prompting, but he got the sense that Ron and Harry were enjoying asking questions, so he let them go on quizzing him.

Harry’s turn apparently, ‘Why did you get a wand in London if you already had one?’

‘Did you break the other one?’ chimed in Ron.

‘No, I haven’t broken my original wand. I got another wand because it was part of my scholarship to Hogwarts, and I thought it would be interesting to see what I’d get matched to here,’ Peter explained. The other two looked confused, so he thought he’d better clear things up.

He pulled out both of his wands and showed them to Harry and Ron, they appeared to think that one of them was just a little bit fancy.

Peter held up the wand that his companions had been looking at most closely, ‘This was made specifically for me by an Aboriginal wand-smith, he’s a lovely bloke, one of the community elders, we drank a lot of tea, and sampled a lot different eucalyptus oil scents...’ Peter had started to run off on a tangent, ‘anyway, this wand is fourteen and five-eighth inches long, made from snow gum timber, with a core of sparkled lyrebird feather, a quarter fluid ounce of Huon pine sap and a drop of my own blood. It has a gold band dividing the tip and the handle, the gold for it was mined in Victoria.’

Peter continued, ‘The wand-smith told me _‘it symbolises the line that is **not to be crossed**’_ and means it should be _‘impossible to turn to the dark arts without a strong moral centre’_.’

Harry had a less obvious question, ‘What did Mr Ollivander think of it?’

Peter thought then answered, ‘He agreed with the wand-smith: _‘this wand is a more rigid type but will respond well to gentle pressure’_. Whatever that means.’

‘What’s your other wand?’ inquired Ron.

‘Sycamore and unicorn hair, fourteen and a half inches, unyielding,’ Peter said, as he held up his other wand to the other two. ‘What’s weird is that the wand-smith’s wife told me to touch the base of both my wands together, to pair them together or bind them or something…’

It was Harry who spoke, ‘But how would she know you get two wands matched to you?’

‘Probably a seer,’ said Ron, seeming to think that that was the most logical explanation.

They chatted for a while about other things, before they drifted into a comfortable silence, and Peter went back to sleep.

### *~*~*

At about half-past twelve the compartment was disturbed by the clattering of the snack trolley, Harry’s excitement at all the wizarding food, and Peter lazily summoning his lunchbox with his snow gum wand before casting a warming charm on a square container filled with something that all three boys agreed smelled delicious.

Peter opened the container and began to carefully eat what he explained was, ‘Noodles and meat sauce, my mum made it for me.’

Harry looked sceptical, ‘Wouldn’t that have gone off by now?’

‘No, it had a preservation charm on it until I opened the lid. My cousin put it on,’ Peter answered, before carefully extracting another bite.

The three continued chatting about chocolate frog cards, and Bertie Bott’s Beans for a while as the train continued ever northwards through the countryside.

They were interrupted by a boy, another first year by the looks, who had lost his toad and was desperately looking for him. The boy was too preoccupied with his missing amphibian to notice Peter’s unusual appearance before he disappeared again.

A short time later the girl that Peter had been talking to on the platform burst in to the compartment with the toad-less boy in tow, looking a little frazzled, whose name was soon revealed to be Neville, before all present witnessed Ron’s attempt at using a “spell” that his brother George had told him about. It was a clear flop.

The girl told them her name was Hermione Granger, and that she’s a muggle-born, and that she’s pre-read all the course material, and that she’s kind of nervous and kind exited all at once. Hermione had said all this in such a rush all at once that Peter wondered if she was more of a ball of nervous energy than she really wanted to let on, the phrase Energizer Bunny sprang to mind. Harry and Ron introduced themselves before Hermione was off on another rant before she flounced out of the compartment saying she was going to help Neville find his toad.

Ron and Harry discussed the Gringotts break-in, they asked Peter about it and his only response was, ‘The Ministry will have leads and suspicions, but if whoever it was is smart, they’ll skip the country after pulling something like this.’ Harry seemed to also think that would be the best plan to avoid getting caught.

Ron then proceeded to turn the conversation to sport, particularly Quidditch and his team Chudley, after he’d found out that Harry didn’t have a team or really know about Quidditch is, before asking Peter about it.

‘What’s your Quidditch team?’ had been Ron’s question.

‘The Red and Blue of the mighty Melbourne Demons,’ Peter replied. ‘They’re also my footy team, the Melbourne Quidditch Club and the Melbourne Football Club have a strong association with each other and the Melbourne Cricket Club.’

Harry was confused, ‘What do you mean by ‘footy’?’ he asked.

At that question, Peter launched into a lively description of Australian rules football and the Australian Football League. Ron was amazed at the description and Harry seemed to think it sounded a little dangerous for a muggle sport, but Ron agreed that the current situation that Peter’s beloved Dees found themselves in sounded like the predicament of Ron’s beloved Cannons.

Sometime later, a rather self-absorbed platinum blond-haired upper-class ponce named Draco Malfoy appeared, with two rotund, thick looking goons apparently named Crabbe and Goyle. They threw insults, made a grab for the rest of Harry and Ron’s food, ignored Peter, and left promptly after Ron’s rat Scabbers bit Goyle. Peter thought he kind of deserved it for being a prat.

Hermione returned to scold Harry and Ron for fighting and tell them to get their robes on before the train arrived at Hogwarts and tell Ron in no uncertain terms that there was some dirt on his nose. As Hermione turned to leave, she noticed the third person in the compartment, who was folding up and packing his navy-blue cloak using his wand, she recognised him from the platform earlier.

‘We were talking earlier on the platform,’ she stated to Peter. ‘I never introduced myself.’ Again, a statement not a question.

She seemed to pause a little, so Peter took this as his queue.

‘Ok, well I’ve been in here the whole trip, so it’s nice to meet you, Hermione Granger, I’m Peter Linnell,’ he said, a little flatly.

‘Oh. Right. Good. I’ll talk to you later then,’ she said, appearing a little nervous as to his impression of her behaviour on the train.

‘We’ll see what happens,’ Peter shrugged.

She noticed that he was already in his school robes and left the compartment, without saying any more.

Shortly afterwards the train arrived at its destination of Hogsmeade Station, and students began getting ready to get off the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry about the blood in the wand core, we’ll pick that up later.  
Bonus bragging rights to those who figure out, to whom are my story titles an homage?


	3. Chapter Three: Sorting Out and Settling In.

The train pulled into the platform at Hogsmeade Station, and students began organising themselves to get off the train and head towards the school. An announcement echoed through the train, telling students to leave their luggage on the train and it would be taken up to the school separately.

Peter pulled the hood of his school robes up over his head, he hoped to blend in a little more without his ears and fur on show. Harry, Ron and Peter stepped out onto the platform, into an immediately obvious swirl of barely organised chaos, and above the din, they could hear a loud voice calling all the first over towards its source. The owner of the loud voice calling over the din of the students leaving the train turned out to be a large and rather friendly man named Hagrid, who also appeared to have already met Harry.

Harry first introduced Ron, and then Peter.

‘Linnell, is it? Good ter meet yer, Peter,’ said Hagrid warmly. ‘I’d heard tha’ you were involved in tha’ nasty Cain Blackthorne business. I was sorry to hear about that.’

Peter gave a small smile, ‘Thanks Hagrid.’

Hagrid was another person who really didn’t make a big deal of Peter’s comparatively odd appearance, this made him feel a little more confident about what lay ahead for him at Hogwarts.

Hagrid let the gaggle of this year’s new students down to the shore of the lake and gave instructions on getting in the boats. The lack of a sail or any kind rigging for a sail left Peter a little disappointed, sailing a boat like this on the lake sounded like a lot of fun, some of his family might even be a little jealous at the prospect. But the thoughts of sailing on the lake were soon shelved as he got his first look up at the castle that would be his school and temporary home for the next seven years or so, and he was taken aback by the beauty of the castle looming high above him.

The boats made their way into a small dock underneath the castle, and all the students managed to extricate themselves from their boats without falling into the water.

_Well, at least I don’t have to try and put that water activities training from Cubs to use right now._

This was a comfort only to Peter himself.

_It does not look warm in there right now._

The group was led up a long flight of steps into what looked like an entrance hall, although without the famous and familiar clocks at Flinders Street Station, and were introduced to Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House and Senior Transfiguration Mistress. She told them about the sorting ceremony that was about to take place, and some of the history and traditions of Hogwarts as well as how the points system works, before leaving them to straighten their robes and make themselves look as presentable as possible. Following on from the look that the Deputy Headmistress seemed to give him, Peter pushed his hood back, exposing his head, ears and fur for all to see.

It was at this point that Draco Malfoy decided to take an interest in him if only to whisper very unsubtly to his two goons about him, the main problem being Peter’s very sensitive hearing, which of course meant he could hear everything they said to each other.

‘Is there something you want to say to my face, young Mr Malfoy?’ he asked loudly.

‘He’s got ears like a kneazle!’ Draco had tried to mutter this under his breath so that Peter wouldn’t hear him, no dice.

‘Well done to you “Captain Obvious”, are you expecting a gold star?’ came the reply.

_One of these days my capacity for sarcasm is going to get me killed._

Draco was frozen, unsure what to do, so Peter pressed on, ‘I’m sure someone of your background would know that talking about others behind their back, especially when they’re in the room with you, is considered very rude.’

Eyebrows raised, he continued, ‘After all, correct etiquette and good manners are supposed to be important to someone of your “station”.’

Malfoy and the other students who pretty much knew they would be joining Slytherin had the good grace to shut up after that, not wanting to shatter any illusions about upper-class sensibilities or prove that Peter was right about him being a rude little bugger.

Other students around the room sniggered, often behind their hands, at the exchange, as well as taking note of the fact that Peter is fully capable of hearing across rooms.

_These ears are going to get me in trouble, _He thought. _And my nose, I just hope no one has a particularly disgusting odour, it mightn’t look good to start retching in front of the whole school._

The school’s ghosts wafted through the hall, delighting some and causing others to jump in surprise. None of them seemed all that interested in him, which was a relief, how do you make small talk with a ghost anyway? He didn’t need to worry, however as Professor McGonagall had returned, and proceeded to lead the group into the Great Hall for the sorting to begin.

The Great Hall was both huge and immaculately decorated, he suspected that a ceiling made with several large stained-glass panels would achieve a similar mesmerising effect to the enchantments showing the sky outside, but this is a magic school, no sense wasting a good opportunity to wow people with what magic can do is there?

He thought it was a level of showing off in the same way as he’d seen in the Senate Chamber ceiling at Parliament House in Canberra, after all, there really wasn’t a practical reason for putting an elliptical vault in a ceiling was there? Even if it’s just a really impressive skylight feature.

The group was led up a place in front of the staff table, then the Sorting Hat was introduced, and proceeded to sing its song. After all of this was over Professor McGonagall began calling names in alphabetical order, and the sorting began.

Peter mostly zoned out on the names unless he’d heard them before, only really keeping track of which letter they up to on the list. This wasn’t because he didn’t care, he genuinely wished all the students well in their new houses, but at this stage they were just names to faces without the real people behind them, and he’d always remembered people he’d met and got to know a little much more reliably than just names and faces.

The first name he recognised was one of Malfoy’s goons, Crabbe, known to his mother as Vincent apparently. He went to Slytherin. The next name he recognised was the other of Malfoy’s lackeys, Gregory Goyle, who also went to Slytherin, rather unsurprisingly.

When Hermione’s name was called, he came back from his haziness to listen to which house she would be placed in. The Sorting Hat mulled a little, before proclaiming her a Gryffindor, and Hermione joined her new housemates. He was genuinely pleased she hadn’t become a snake, that may have been dangerous to her wellbeing based on the others he’d seen join that house.

‘Li, Sue,’ called Professor McGonagall. ‘RAVENCLAW!’ Yelled the Hat.

‘Linnell, Peter.’

His turn now. He stepped forward to some gasps and whispers that he really didn’t appreciate, and the hat was placed on his head.

It began to whisper in his ear, ‘Hmmm… a purple and white fleur-de-lis is very firmly lodged in here… I don’t see that very often, even from muggle-borns, then again those who can grow their own fur coat a bit thin on the ground too. Now… I could put you in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, but… there’s a fire that burns to see injustices righted and unfairness chased away, a person who strives to put knowledge and principles into action…’

_I get the impression that my commitment to those ideals might get me killed one day. But, as both my Grandfathers say, ‘better to go down in defence of what you truly believe in your heart is right, then to live as a pliant coward’,_ He thought.

‘Well put my wise young friend, Cain Blackthorne’s experiment could never take your honourable nature from you.’ The Hat chuckled softly as it said, ‘Now off with you, go join your housemates in… GRYFFINDOR!’

He got off the stool and made his way over to his new housemates with a broad smile on his face, feeling like he was floating on a cloud, the sound of _You Can’t Always Get What You Want_ by the Rolling Stones running through his head.

_THIS. IS. AWESOME!_

A pair of very friendly red-headed twins that he remembered helping Harry get his stuff on the train, whom he soon found out were Fred and George Weasley, two of Ron’s older brothers, decided to welcome him to the Gryffindor table with high fives all round from all their circle of friends.

‘The tiger wears Scarlet and Gold!’ they yelled in celebration, as the table descended into bedlam, to welcome their new if a little unusual, member.

_They’re glad to have me with them, they’re actually happy I’ve joined their house,_ he thought.

_Our house._ He thought with a sense of warm and happy finality, even if he kind wished they wouldn’t call him “Tiger”, “PD” was much more to his liking. Professor McGonagall seemed to be glaring a little in their general direction waiting for them all to settle down again before calling the next name. When finally, they did, nothing could wipe the smile off Peter’s face.

Shortly afterwards Neville Longbottom’s name was called, Peter recognised him as the unfortunately toad-less boy from the train, he looked nervous. This did not improve when the Hat put him in Gryffindor, despite all the loud cheering from the table welcoming him to the fold. Neville clearly still felt as though it wasn’t quite real, that he was to be a scarlet and gold lion, as he rather nervously approached the table and sat down. Professor McGonagall looked satisfied that there weren’t going to be any more outbursts of great excitement for the moment, as she continued calling names.

She got to Draco Malfoy on the list, who was sent almost immediately to join his lackeys at the Slytherin table. No one was at all surprised by this outcome.

The first of the set of twins starting this year approached the stool as the name Padma Patil was called, there was some deliberation before she went to Ravenclaw. Now her sister Parvati came to the stool and the Hat put on her head, then came what can only be described as a look of heartbreak to her face, as the Hat separated her from her twin and placed her in Gryffindor. Although the whole table cheered with great gusto, Peter couldn’t help but notice that Parvati was hurting deep inside. It would take some time and the support of her roommates to help her through the initial separation.

After the Patil twins came Sally-Anne Perks, but very few around the Great Hall were paying attention to where she was going, Peter among them, even if he felt that was a little unfair to her.

_She’ll become the answer to one of those trivia questions that hardly anyone knows, like who had the highest batting average before Bradman, _he thought sadly.

_‘Who was the student sorted just before Harry Potter, and which house were they sorted into?’ ‘I’ve no idea, Eddie.’_

Finally, Harry’s name was called, and he received a much bigger level of gasps and whispers than Peter did, Harry seemed uncomfortable with all the attention he was getting from the hall. The Sorting Hat dropped onto his head, and considerations began. The hall was tense while this went on, everyone on tenterhooks waiting. At last, the Hat declared Harry a scarlet and gold lion of Gryffindor, and the table descended into absolute bedlam with the giddy excitement of everyone at Harry’s joining them. Once again Professor McGonagall seemed to be waiting for the din to subside before going on down the list, with a studied glare for good measure.

Ron turned out to be one of the last called up to the stool to be put in a house, when he made it under the Hat it took no time at all to declare him a Gryffindor like all the other Weasleys. Finally, Blaise Zabini went to Slytherin, and the sorting was done for this year.

Headmaster Dumbledore gave an interesting pre-feast speech of just four words, which someone with an ungenerous spirit might think were euphemisms for swear words.

And then the food was there, of which Peter ate a generous helping of both mains and dessert.

Whilst he ate, the house ghost Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington wafted through introducing himself to the new students, there were whispers of him being “Nearly Head-less”, and of course someone, who shall remain permanently named for all posterity as Seamus Finnigan, had to ask the obvious question. As soon as the words of that question had left Seamus’ lips, Peter had sighed, putting his face in his palm, with the feeling he knew exactly where this was going, and it wasn’t going to be particularly pretty to see.

_You had to ask, didn’t you Seamus?_ he thought. _Here we go…_

Sir Nicholas demonstrated how he could be nearly head-less, much to the chagrin of many at the table.

_Well, that was about as disturbing as I expected,_ thought Peter flatly. _Just the sort of thing eleven-year-olds really need to see while they’re eating, and just before they go to bed somewhere unfamiliar. This shouldn’t be nightmare-inducing at all. Not at all._

His Cub Scout leadership training was running through his mind at full speed with all of this going on, mainly because he’d been a Sixer in this sort of situation before. Your charges tend not to take any comfort in you saying it’s all ok, and that it was just a bad dream because really, that’s what leaders are for apparently. This may not be a fun night.

However, everyone soon got chatting about other things, who was half-blood, pure-blood, or muggle-born; what lessons were going to be like, and general over-dinner small talk.

Harry was looking up at the staff table quite closely, and as Peter studied where his housemate was looking, he finally had an answer as to where that stench of garlic, and something else he didn’t want to think about too much, was coming from. Peter was certain that if he got too close, he’d start retching, it was rank. And the teacher it was coming from, who was identified as Professor Quirrell, was wearing an utterly ridiculous vibrantly coloured turban and looked as though he would have either a heart attack or a stroke at any second. Apparently, he was to be their senior defence master.

_God help us, we’re all going to die if we have to rely on him teaching us how to protect ourselves. _He thought pessimistically, he earnestly hoped that there were other teachers in that department.

He also thought that the supposed ‘Senior Potions Master’ looked as though he really didn’t have the requisite dental hygiene to be able to do his job properly, Professor Snape had apparently never been introduced to the idea of keeping everything necessary for delicate brewing work, including yourself, as clean as you would need to keep medical equipment.

### *~*~*

The various selections of puddings at last disappeared, and Headmaster Dumbledore got up to speak. Notices were given: forest equals forbidden; no magic in the corridors; Quidditch trials the second week of term for second years and above; right-hand third-floor corridor out of bounds, unless you like death. A lot.

The school song was next on the agenda, which was basically chaos with everyone choosing a different tune and finishing up at different times, the Weasley twins, of course, chose a very slow funeral march style tune and finished singing last of all.

After the song was done it was time to head up to the dormitories, and Gryffindor’s new students followed a prefect identified as Percy Weasley, another of Ron’s brothers. Peter had picked up on a few comments around him that Ron was the sixth and last Weasley brother to start at Hogwarts, and that he had a sister due to start next year.

He thought that the Weasleys might’ve gotten a better time of it than one of his mother’s friends, she and her husband had made, at his last reckoning, five daughters in a row, apparently, it was always chaos at their house. At least Mr Weasley would only have to go through “having a talk with the boyfriend” stage once; apparently, the thought that he’d be doing that five times was what was turning Mr Anderson grey, then bald relatively quickly.

The whispering and murmuring of the portraits and the students was starting to give him a headache as he climbed the stairs up to Gryffindor Tower, he wished they’d quiet down a little. His distraction with the noise meant barely avoided knocking over the student in front of him as the group stopped suddenly, he heard what sounded like several small timber poles clattering together against each other and heard some whispering about pranking the new students.

Percy told the group that they were dealing with a poltergeist named Peeves, who finally moved on after threats to inform the Bloody Baron about this mucking around had been made, but not before throwing some of his bundle, which turned out to be walking sticks, at Percy.

Percy led the group up to the large portrait of a rather plump looking woman clad in a pink dress worthy of the court of King George III and gave a password of ‘Caput Draconis’ before the picture swung outwards to reveal a hole in the wall, that all the students would have to climb/crawl through.

_Seems the girls are getting the rough end of the pineapple here, _He considered. _I mean really, whoever thought uniform skirts were practical in here, has clearly never had to get through this door._

Peter decided to try and make sure he wasn’t going to be following a girl into the hole, not wanting to be that boy who uses any excuse to sneak a peek at the girls’ lady bits. After all, he was a scout, a Gryffindor, and a boy of principle; the least he could do was try and avoid being sleazy and creepy.

After coming in through the portrait hole, Peter looked around the Gryffindor common room. It was a circular room decorated in scarlet and gold, filled with comfy looking armchairs and couches and small tables arranged around a large fireplace. He noticed an archway leading into an alcove, off which led two stairwells on either side, helpfully labelled as ‘Boys’ and ‘Girls’, left and right respectively, in the stone of their archways to avoid confusion as to which dorms were which, which may have turned embarrassing at some point.

Between the stairwells there were three doorways, the one on the left was filled with a heavy wooden door firmly labelled ‘Prefect’s Office’, the one in the middle was blocked up with smooth stone, and the one on the right declared itself ‘Quidditch Meeting Room’. Percy promptly opened the door to the Prefect’s Office and introduced the new Gryffindors to their prefects, who were sat around the small room and seemed to be waiting to have a short start-of-year meeting.

The room itself was furnished with a couple of couches and armchairs, along with two desks placed back-to-back with requisite chairs, and some filing cabinets, bookshelves and cupboards. All-in-all it appeared to be a quiet space where any Gryffindor was encouraged to knock on the door and speak to one of their prefects should they feel the need.

Percy reinforced this impression in his explanation of the room, however, he also stated that only members of the Quidditch team were allowed in the team meeting room, which also served as a kind of team captain’s office as well.

Percy also explained that the third doorway was to accommodate a room for the special use of the Head Boy or Girl if one or both were from Gryffindor at the time, he also said that all the other houses had similar arrangements.

‘You will all find your dorms on the First Years landings upstairs, Goodnight,’ Percy told them before joining his five fellow Gryffindor prefects inside the office and closing the door.

The girls drifted off towards their dorms, whilst the boys climbed up their steps, passing landings for year level, until they came to a landing where an archway that had words ‘First Years’ etched into the stonework, led into an anteroom off which there were two doors. Each of the doors had a stone plaque set into the wall beside them, the one next to the left-hand door listed the names of the students who had been allocated to that room.

The list read:  
S. Finnigan.  
N. Longbottom.  
H. Potter.  
D. Thomas.  
R. Weasley.

The right-hand door had a similar list of five names next to it as well, but the only name that wasn’t listed was, P. Linnell. Peter deflated slightly, he wouldn’t have any roommates, as it appeared that there was a limit of five to a room and he was the extra one who couldn’t fit in either of the rooms, the “overflow”.

The boys who would be living in the room on the left seemed to notice this and immediately declared, quite firmly, that he would forever be their “honorary” roommate. By which they meant that to them he was as much their roommate as they were to each other, even if he would be sleeping in another room. Peter felt as though they were really trying to prove to him that they thought he belonged here as much as they did.

However, the nice moment of budding friendship could not overcome the fact that their beds and some restful sleep were calling them through into their respective rooms, and the group parted ways for the night.

### *~*~*

Working on a hunch Peter continued up the staircase until he came to the landing at the top, which connected both the boys’ and girls’ staircases and led through a worn archway, labelled “Married Dormitories” in very faded letters, to a small corridor off which there were six doorways, before another archway leading to another staircase. It was very dusty and musty up here like these rooms hadn’t been used in a very long time, he wondered if the castle or someone else was trying to butter him up or make up for the horrors he’d endured at the hands of Blackthorne by making him exceptionally comfortable.

Peter found that the first door on the left carried his name and was taken aback when he pushed it open revealing the dorm room, he’d have to himself for the year. The main room comprised several spaces, the first was a small lounge area with a well-proportioned fireplace on the back wall, two couches, three armchairs, two large bookshelves, a nice timber coffee table and a large woollen rug that defined the space. Just off the lounge space, to the right of the entry, was a study nook which had a decent sized desk that was more of a workbench with a few simple timber shelves and a timber desk chair, the nook also had some space for potions work that also served as a small kitchenette. Opposite the study nook was a curtained archway leading into the bedroom which contained a large double bed with a nightstand on either side and an averagely sized timber wardrobe. Leading off the bedroom was a door through to a small reasonably plain bathroom, which had a second connecting door out to the main living space. The whole suite was appointed in the Gryffindor motif of scarlet and gold, with the Gryffindor House Crest featuring on the rug in the lounge.

Peter had been astonished to find that all his stuff has been taken out of his trunk and put away exactly as he would have done. He made a quick check of everything to make sure it was where he expected it to be, his leather messenger bag was on top of the desk along with both the enchanted typewriter and his very elegant antique style calligraphy set, all of them gifts from his family to wish him well at Hogwarts. His stack of parchment lay in the top drawer on the right of the desk and his ink bottles, fountain pen cartridges, and rolls of typewriter ribbon were in the bottom drawer of the right-hand set of two, to avoid ink leaking onto his supply of parchment. His leather case of spare writing materials for use in class was in the single drawer on the left-hand side, the heavily enchanted mobile phone his cousin had given him along with an address book filled with the phone numbers of many of his friends and family members to make sure he was still connected to his family despite the great distance, was in the top drawer of his nightstand (the one closest to the archway).

His books, some of them interesting volumes of fiction, were already sitting on some the shelves of the two bookcases, part of the remaining space was taken up with some personal trinkets and Melbourne Demons merchandise. Finally, his alarm clock was sitting under the lamp on the nightstand, and his toiletries had been put in the bathroom. Everything was where he would have put it had he set the room up himself, and he wondered who would have done that. But sleep was calling, so he put his wands under the lamp on the nightstand, brushed his teeth, shucked off his clothes before changing into a pair of flannel shorts to sleep in, and climbed into bed, got warm and comfy and went to sleep happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re wondering who the Eddie referenced in this chapter is, Google Eddie McGuire. He’s a TV host from Melbourne who hosts the Australian version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. Often commonly known in Melbourne as Eddie Everywhere.


	4. Chapter Four: Classes and Tails.

As Peter got around the castle over the following days with Harry and Ron, he found that many of the inhabitants of the castle had taken a predilection to whispering about the presence of Harry in the castle, and about where he was going, and what he was doing. It was doing Peter’s head in. He’d been placed in the same class group as Harry and Ron, and therefore had witnessed some of the goings of their early classes together, in which Harry had found that there was a little more to magic than he had initially thought.

After receiving several warnings from other older students about how Head Caretaker Filch was especially harsh with students, apparently because he hates children.

_How the hell did he get a job in a school if he hates kids?_

Peter had made the effort to ask the Headmaster if there was a code of conduct for the staff as well as the students, and if he could be given a copy of it to try to hold some teachers to account. However, Professor Dumbledore decided it was not the right time for that sort of thing, and that he’d be given it if it became necessary in future.

But, as much as Filch tried to catch out the students doing something they shouldn’t be, with some success, the caretaker was never able to catch Peter or his companions unawares or by surprise, if only because Filch had both a rather distinctive and pungent odour, and an inability to get around the castle with the required level of stealth to avoid Peter’s hyper-sensitive hearing. As such there were a few confrontations in which Peter accused the caretaker of ‘… skulking ‘round the school, looking for any excuse to punish students simply for the sake of using his power…’ before declaring that if Filch really wanted to challenge him about it, he would volunteer his memories as evidence, which would prove his point. The run-ins with the ghosts were relatively straightforward, if they weren’t Peeves, and would often point students in the right direction if they were struggling to find their way through the castle.

At one point, the three of them got lost and ended up trying to force their way through the door to the off-limits corridor believing that they were somewhere else entirely.

Filch wasn’t buying that argument. At. All.

The group ended up being saved from much more of that treatment by Professor Quirrell, but the unfortunate problem for Peter was that the strongly odorous defence Professor was now too close for comfort and he copped the exceptionally strong and rank smell of garlic, sweatiness, and something else best not thought about, full in the face like he’d been socked in the mouth. And he promptly proceeded to begin retching as the extremely disgusting smell made him feel rather sick. Quirrell directed Harry and Ron to take Peter straight up to Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing, where he assured the concerned matron that it was just an automatic reaction to a really bad smell. But the conscientious and professional school healer refused to let him out unless he ate a rather sizable chunk of chocolate, just to be sure he was ok.

As to the classes they were taking, Astronomy was less fascinating than he thought it would be, it was closer to Astrology than he’d initially expected, and the midnight sessions didn’t help.

Herbology turned out to be an enjoyable class, despite the dirt that would get in his fur, mainly because Professor Sprout was an enthusiastic and gifted teacher, and herbologist.

The most dismaying experience came in History of Magic. Peter loved history and found it endlessly fascinating, he had excelled at history in primary school, but he was deeply shocked and shaken to find that Professor Binns was quite simply a bore and made the subject he was supposed to be teaching utterly uninteresting to all his students, it became a source of considerable frustration to him that such an important subject as the history of magic and wizarding society was being treated with what he felt was utter contempt.

After noticing that Hermione was the only other student in their classes paying attention, he’d vented to her about his frustrations in a reasonably quiet nook of the common room as they studied for History of Magic together.

‘Why the hell does Dumbledore let Binns go on butchering this subject?’ he’d started.

‘Hmmm…?’ was Hermione’s only initial reply, she’d been concentrating on her notes, not really listening to her study companion.

‘I mean, it’s really disgraceful that he bores the crap out of everyone when someone with more of a passion for teaching history could easily make so much more fascinating and engaging.’

‘He’s a ghost, and he’s been teaching this for a long time,’ Hermione stated.

‘But this stuff is bloody important, it’s the story and knowledge of how we got here and what shaped the culture we’re living in now. If we don’t learn about this properly, the stupid prejudices will go on and we’ll keep having outbursts of groups like the Death Eaters,’ He said, getting very visibly angry, not noticing the crackle in the air around him.

Hermione managed to pop the bubble of anger around her housemate as she said, ‘I agree with you, but we can’t change it.’

‘So, just suck it up?’ he asked flatly.

‘Yes.’

‘Alright, I’ll just study and make my own notes on this and tune out our lecturer then. Seems like that’d be more productive. Do you want me to share my notes with you?’ Peter was admitting defeat.

‘Thanks, but no,’ had been Hermione’s answer, before she’d packed up her stuff and left him there working on his notes.

He got the impression that she wasn’t getting on that well with many people at school and was feeling lonely. What wasn’t helping was her somewhat swotty demeanour and know-it-all reputation, which he suspected came from an intense desire to prove herself.

Professor Flitwick, although a small and occasionally excitable wizard, proved to be an instructive and engaging teacher. Peter felt that he was already learning loads during Charms, thanks to having a passionate teacher who seemed to know his subject backwards.

Transfiguration had been a different experience again; Professor McGonagall had been initially both impressed and appalled by his now natural ability to shift relatively easily between “tiger-boy” and fully feline forms. McGonagall was impressed with how well he could mimic various feline species, and appalled that this ability stemmed from the alchemy “experiments” that had messed with his body, and it came with the guarantee that he would get a piercing migraine upon returning to “normal” that would last up to five hours, if he didn’t take a very specific potion, whose recipe had gone missing in the raids that ended the operations of Cain Blackthorne and company in Australia.

It might turn up somewhere in the stacks of evidence, but there were also notes that indicated the potion may also cause some constipation. Peter sometimes thought that being bunged up for what may be a short time was worth the relief from the migraines but would rather not run the risk of that condition being a longer-term or more severe thing.

McGonagall was interested to know that he was not classified as an Animagus, if only because he didn’t need his wand to do this, and therefore didn’t have to register this with the Ministry. Of course, the Department of Magical Affairs in Australia had this information on its confidential records, but the Ministry of Magic was not allowed to access those.

When it came to turning matches into needles, Hermione had made the biggest change to her match, whilst he had managed to come in a close second place. Professor McGonagall showed the class both specimens and smiled at their creators.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was an absolute nightmare, Quirrell stank, the classroom reeked of the same smell, and in the limited time Peter spent in the class it rapidly became obvious that Quirrell was too nervous and jittery to be able to deal effectively with all the different challenges in teaching this subject. After fifteen minutes in the first class, he’d apparently looked rather green, which was somewhat of an achievement, and bolted from the room to find the nearest toilet or bucket available, hopefully before he emptied his stomach. He avoided making a mess on the floor somewhere by mere seconds and then had to spend two hours in the hospital wing being fussed over, much to his chagrin, by Madam Pomfrey, after Quirrell had told him to go to the matron immediately.

‘I’m fine,’ He told her, still looking a bit queasy.

‘Nonsense,’ She’d insisted. ‘You’ve had a bout of nausea, and it only seems to happen when your nose is overwhelmed by a disgusting odour that seems to be associated with Professor Quirrell.’

_What could possibly make you think that, Healer?_

As if reading his thoughts, Madam Pomfrey glared at him before continuing, ‘I think that is the answer, as you’ve only been up here twice in your first week after close encounters with Professor Quirrell, and you were complaining that you couldn’t smell the hot chocolate I brought for you earlier. So, it must be an olfactory trigger.’

Peter couldn’t help noticing that the experienced healer looked a little pleased with herself for working out what was going with him.

He nodded at her explanation.

‘So, I’m going to the Headmaster to get you excused from that class for as long as Quirrell is the teacher,’ She said firmly.

This brought up an important question, ‘But, how am I going to learn defence?’

‘I… um…’ she tried before she sighed heavily. ‘I’m sure Professor Dumbledore will have a solution to that problem.’

She seemed less than one hundred per cent confident in that answer.

She went on, ‘Because you can’t carry on like this, we’ve not even gotten through the first week of your first year, and you’ve already been to see me twice.’

By the end of the day, under serious pressure from Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore arranged for him to be transferred to the other Gryffindor class group for Defence Against the Dark Arts, based on his adverse physical reaction to being in Quirrell’s class.

This group was being taught by Instructor Winters, a young witch gaining experience and knowledge in teaching the subject, even if she had to teach using the structure that Quirrell, as the Professor and Head of Department, had set out.

The lesson plans were not brilliant, but at least he could focus on learning and not what Professor Quirrell and his classroom smelled of.

### *~*~*

Friday arrived, with the promise of the first potions lesson for Harry, Ron, Hermione and Peter, and a note to Harry from Hagrid asking him to have some tea with the gamekeeper. The other two boys were apprehensive about having lessons with Professor Snape, he apparently strongly favoured his own Slytherin students, and was very harsh on Gryffindors. The lesson did not initially go well for Harry after Snape took the register and gave his little speech, he decided to publicly humiliate him by asking a series of questions to which he did not know the answer. After Snape had told the class the answers those questions and taken a house point off Harry for suggesting Hermione might know the answer, Peter decided to ask his Professor a question.

‘Professor Snape?’ he said, raising his hand.

The Potions Master tensed, but turned and addressed him, ‘What is it, Linnell?’

‘How does one create a _Draught of the Living Death_ using only Australian Native ingredients?’

Peter had been careful to use a neutral and even tone of voice, but he watched the Potions Master’s scowl intensify as he seemed to be struggling to find the answer.

Meanwhile, the whole class was held in silent tension, as the time Professor Snape was taking to think about this dragged on, even Malfoy was waiting for Snape’s answer with interest.

At last, Snape admitted, ‘I am unfamiliar with Australian native potion-making ingredients; therefore, I am unable to name those which would be used.’

The Professor sneered slightly, thinking he had outwitted a foreign student out of their depth who was just going to try something like, naming the first native potion ingredients that came to mind.

‘Actually Professor, the question was about the how not the what. The answer is in fact, you must consult the _Encyclopaedia of Australian Potion-Making_,’ said Peter, wiping any satisfaction off his Professor’s face. ‘You first find the potion you wish to make, you next find your local region, you next find the list of locally available ingredients, and finally, you follow the advice as to the method of brewing. This is done because Australia is a continent in its own right, and therefore, the amount of bio-diversity demands this knowledge, which no one person will ever be able to memorise.’

Hermione gaped at her black and white housemate, whilst Snape looked murderous.

‘Two points from Gryffindor. You will work on your own for this lesson,’ Declared the Professor.

Peter nodded slightly and said with an even tone, ‘As you instruct, Professor.’

As he rose, collected his things and moved to the indicated bench.

Once he’d taken his new seat, Professor Snape declared that the class would be brewing a potion for curing boils. Immediately after this had been announced, Peter flicked his wand, like he had done when setting up for class back home and had all the pieces of his equipment he needed on the bench in front of him.

He got his ingredients and started work, he was using some notes he had made during his last lesson in potions in Australia, they were hand-written on lined paper contained within an A4 notebook, his Professor was surprised to see this when he looked over to him.

Neville soon managed to melt the cauldron he was working at and spread a rather nasty mess on a large portion of the floor, the classroom had also filled with some rather nasty smoke. Neville was sent up to the hospital wing having sprouted boils all over himself, and Harry lost another point before the class settled into a rhythm.

But it was with fifteen minutes to go in the class that the greatest commotion occurred when Professor Snape trod on Peter’s tail. Said tail had been laid out on the floor behind him, he was used to teachers who watched where they were walking around him.

Professor Snape had made to hover over Peter’s shoulder and had crushed Peter’s tail under his foot as he was stepping behind the student.

The reaction was immediate, with a very loud feline yowl, startled shout, thump, and crash of equipment being knocked off the bench, Professor Snape was grabbed firmly and swung around in a whirl of robes before his back slammed into the timber desktop, knocking some of the wind out of him. The Potions Master’s vision had blurred slightly from the force of being pinned to the workbench, and he could feel his student’s claws pressing down hard against his sternum through his robes.

Snape made to move slightly and was greeted with a loud low-rumbling growl from his student, emphasised by a black and white face turned to a furious snarl, and Peter’s other hand was held back as if ready to strike, claws drawn.

The Professor stayed perfectly still, deciding not to become a scratching post for his only cat-like student.

Ron turned and whispered in surprise to Harry, ‘Blimey!’

That broke Peter’s reverie, and he released his Potions teacher.

Snape stood up slowly, he had been totally surprised by the strength and speed his furred student possessed and looked upon the still seething face of his charge, the rest of the class remained silent.

‘You have my apologies, Mr Linnell, I failed to notice your tail,’ Stated Snape quietly. ‘I would, however, recommend that said appendage be laid in a less dangerous location in future.’

‘I will keep that in mind,’ replied Peter. ‘And I apologise for manhandling you, Professor.’

Professor Snape proceeded to surprise everyone when he said, ‘The two points I took from you earlier are returned. You will, of course, report to Madam Pomfrey at once so that she may check over your tail.’ Snape loomed over him. ‘We shall not discuss this further.’

‘Of course, Thank you, Professor.’

Peter gathered his things and left the classroom for the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was almost beside herself when she saw him walking into her infirmary again.

‘Again! This is the third time this week!’ she exclaimed. ‘What happened this time?’

‘Professor Snape accidentally stepped on my tail,’ came Peter’s reply.

‘Right, let’s check those vertebrae and see what’s damaged,’ she said, swinging into immediate action.

Madam Pomfrey fussed and grumbled as she worked on him, mostly about students who found reasons to become regular customers of hers, that Peter shouldn’t have to go through a week like this, and that she was going to remind the teachers to be careful of where they’re stepping.

Twenty minutes later he’d been told that he had some fractured and broken tail vertebrae, and was, therefore, staying the night, so the healer could be sure the damaged bones would heal properly. She confided to him that she didn’t have a lot of experience fixing tails, but she promised him a full recovery even if she needed to get outside help to do it.

_She’s a hard-working professional, you’re in good hands, don’t worry about it,_ He thought to himself.

At least if it took longer than expected, he’d gotten some more chocolate.

Harry and Ron stopped in to see him after they had finished the lesson, they both understood what had happened and why he had reacted like he did and gave him a warning.

‘Snape was muttering about giving you detention as we left,’ Declared Ron in a worried tone.

Peter smiled slightly, ‘Thanks for the heads up, gents. But, you two should get on, so you can see Hagrid before it gets late.’

‘Ok, we’ll see you tomorrow then,’ Harry promised, before nudging Ron to get up and follow him out of the Hospital Wing.

After they’d left, Peter reached over to the patient’s table, pulled it across to the bed until it reached over his lap, and pulled out some work to get on with. _Might as well try to use some this time productively. _He thought.

Headmaster Dumbledore came to see him, shortly after the boys had left.

‘You will likely be relieved to know that Professor Snape, considers this matter closed,’ He began. ‘You will not be given detention for your actions. However, I must counsel you to take better care of your tail in future,’ The Headmaster said firmly.

Peter answered quickly and firmly, ‘I will Headmaster, thank you.’

Dumbledore smiled, before leaving Peter to his other tasks. He used the rest of the day to work on homework, ate a nice dinner, read a little of one of his fiction volumes, and finally went to sleep.

### *~*~*

His tail had healed as expected and he was sitting with Ron and Harry who were both speculating about Draco Malfoy’s apparent flying skills ahead of their first flying lesson on Thursday, mostly saying that he was all mouth, especially about the helicopters.

The talk of Quidditch, and how much flying experience everyone had gained, had consumed both Ron and Seamus Finnigan, with both boys banging on about how they’d had near misses with muggle aircraft and nearly getting taken off the broom by low hanging branches. The constant talk of Quidditch had sparked off a rather large argument between Dean Thomas and Ron about football, at a slightly higher volume than anyone in the room had thought was appropriate, especially when Peter had told them he’d heard all of it through a vent running up the tower, shared by their dorm and his. Ron couldn’t understand what made a game with one ball and no flying exciting, although he conceded that he’d have to see a game in person before really being able to judge, and then extended that caveat to Aussie rules when Peter reminded everyone that was one of his favourite sports.

Both Neville and Hermione were very nervous about flying, and Hermione’s impressive intellect had gone into overdrive trying to find every possible skerrick of useful information she could in the library, particularly one book called _Quidditch Through the Ages_.

She was driving everyone nuts with this, except Neville who was completely enraptured by the tips she’d gleaned from her research. Everyone at the table was distracted from the lecture Hermione was in the middle of giving by the arrival of the post, Deak swooped down gracefully, dropped a pack of five letters into Peter’s lap before circling back to land on his shoulder. The owl took a bit of bacon and a scratch on the head, before hooting and returning to the owlery.

Peter turned to his letters all of which came from back home, three from his family, one from each of his two oldest mates, and he tuned out much of the action around him whilst he read them, savouring the sight of crisp white copy paper amongst all the parchment he could see in the hall.

Malfoy decided to have a stickybeak at the Gryffindor table at that point and couldn’t help himself as he passed Peter whilst moving down the table.

‘Paper? Only filthy muggles use paper.’

‘Yes, because it’s just so easy to read writing in ink against the dirty yellow of parchment, and parchment just never picks up dirt and other stains. Push off Malfoy,’ Was Peter’s rather sarcastic response.

Peter had noticed that the population of bully types had become rather wary of him after the incident with Snape and were mostly leaving him alone, he was very content with this state of events.

Instead of leaving as advised, Draco had apparently found another source of “entertainment”, snatching Neville’s new Remembrall. Professor McGonagall soon intervened, and Malfoy returned the object in question before swanning off with his goons in tow, having caused the required level disturbance in the residents of the table.

### *~*~*

Three-thirty in the afternoon found the entire first-year group from both Gryffindor and Slytherin plodding down to a large flat lawn opposite the Forbidden Forest to find a set of school brooms laid out for all the students. Apparently, Ron’s brothers Fred and George were not fans of the school brooms, however, the time available to dwell on the reasons why was very short, as the Flying Instructor Madam Hooch arrived and immediately organised the students into lines so that each student was standing beside a broom.

She gave the students instructions on how to summon their broom, and they commenced calling their brooms to their hands. Much of this was knowledge Peter already had, given how early in life Australian witches and wizards begin magical tutoring, he expected to surpass what he’d learned before coming to Hogwarts before the end of term, however. Because of this Peter had easily summoned his broom and had his grip on the timbers approved after he’d mounted with the rest of the class.

Madam Hooch then told them to take off, fly a low circle, and land again once she blew her whistle. Neville was, unfortunately, a bundle of nerves and worried about being left standing on the grass by himself.

So, he kicked off from the lawn just after Madam Hooch’s count of two and promptly shot up into the air in a panic. Once the ground was a rather long drop below him, Neville’s panic overcame him, and he slipped from his broom plummeting to the ground, where he landed heavily on his wrist.

Peter heard the crunch of the joint being overstressed and giving way from where he was standing, sometimes those ears of his were more a curse than anything else.

_I really didn’t want to hear that, damn ears!_

Madam Hooch left to escort Neville up to the hospital wing, with very strict instructions that no student was to go anywhere until she got back, instructions which Peter was certain that some of the Slytherin students would not obey. It’s like putting someone in front of a big red button and telling them _‘do not press this button’_. It never works.

Some of the Slytherins had been sniggering quietly at Neville falling off his broom, which seemed to be a bit of an omen that things were about to get a bit nuts.


	5. Chapter Five: A Flight, a Duel, and a Troll.

Draco Malfoy had found himself unable to contain his apparent mirth at Neville’s condition once their flying instructor had led injured boy in question out of sight. Draco and his housemates seemed to think that this was a good time start winding up the Gryffindors, there were several barbs traded between members of each house before Malfoy spotted something glinting in the grass.

He picked up Neville’s Remembrall and decided to indulge his more prick like nature, apparently by shoving it somewhere in the top of a tree for Neville to go hunting for later.

In aid of this objective, he’d taken off and shot towards the top of an oak tree, goading Harry into following him to retrieve the Remembrall as he went.

Peter was entirely unsurprised when Harry gave in to his want to defend his housemate from the green and silver attacks and shot off on his broom in pursuit of Malfoy, ignoring Hermione’s protests about obeying Madam Hooch’s instructions. There was a short mid-air confrontation where Harry nearly barrelled straight through Malfoy, that would have knocked the Slytherin off his perch, before Draco decided to throw the Remembrall as high up into the air as he could daring Harry to catch it.

Peter wasn’t feeling massively confident that Harry would pluck the gold and glass orb out of the air, and so took off across the grass at a run to try and get under the Remembrall, like catching a cricket ball that had been hit almost straight up into the air.

Harry was in a steep dive at what had to be close to terminal velocity, some of the Gryffindor girls screamed their fears that Harry might be about to complete a lawn dart maneuver as Peter continued to sprint towards the trajectory of the Remembrall.

Harry stretched forwards to grab the ball, as Peter lunged forwards intent on making a diving catch should Harry miss or pull out of his dive early.

Peter hit the turf at what he’d reckoned was the right spot to make the catch, but Harry caught the ball inches above his prone friend, pulling out of the dive just before he would have faceplanted into the grass and then rolling off his broom to land much more gently on the grass, the Remembrall firmly secured in his fist.

Professor McGonagall appeared at that moment, moving very fast across the grounds and looking very angry. She quickly hauled Harry off somewhere, many thought she would punish him severely. Ron and Hermione came up to Peter after Harry had disappeared, and the contrast between the two opinions was stark.

‘That was brilliant/terrifying,’ the two had said at the same time before they glared slightly at each other once they realised what each of them had said.

Hermione went first this time, ‘I can’t believe that you would run towards where Harry might have crashed into the ground, that was so dangerous!’ she admonished.

‘I was trying to catch the Remembrall, not be Harry’s crash mat. But I wouldn’t like to be that close to being landed on like that again,’ Responded Peter. Hermione didn’t look impressed at his response.

Ron took his turn, ‘Where did you learn how to do that?’ he asked.

‘My primary school has cricket as part of its sports program, that’s where I learned how to do that, from playing cricket,’ Peter explained.

Ron was confused as to what exactly this game called cricket was and Hermione seemed a little impressed at the skill, he’d displayed in nearly taking the catch.

‘That’s not easy to do even for professional players, Ron.’

Hermione’s outlook on it all had brightened slightly.

‘How do you know that, Hermione?’ huffed Ron.

‘Well, my father plays for a local cricket club near my home,’ She explained. ‘Nothing serious mind, but he enjoys it. That’s how I know, Ronald,’ She finished with a huff.

Peter shot Ron a look, as if to say, _‘drop it, now’_, and promised him, ‘I’ll explain the game later.’

### *~*~*

‘You’re joking.’ ‘Bleedin’ ‘eck!’

The first words out of Ron and Peter respectively once Harry had sat down to dinner and explained that Professor McGonagall had hauled him off to meet Oliver Wood, Gryffindor’s Quidditch captain, and appoint him as seeker for the team. He would be the youngest Quidditch player on a house team in around a century, and Ron and Peter were very excited for him.

Fred and George came in trying their best efforts to be subtle about this, even if nothing they could do would stop someone like Peter from overhearing the conversation, short of a silencing or muffling charm. They told Harry they were ‘well chuffed’ for him, and left muttering something about a new secret passageway that Lee Jordan might have found.

Malfoy and his goons decided to come over to try and intimidate Harry, and gloat about how they were sure Harry would be expelled. Harry made comment about Draco feeling more secure and certain in his “power and status” when he could hide behind his lackeys, which led to Malfoy declaring that he would happily duel Harry one-on-one, should Harry have the stones to agree.

_Don’t take the bait, Harry,_ Thought Peter.

Harry and Ron agreed to the duel.

_Damn it, he’s playing you!_ Thought Peter, as he watched them set a time and place for this “duel”, _He’s a Slytherin, you know the house of cunning? He’s doing this to try and get you into serious trouble_.

Harry was unsure what he’d just agreed to, ‘What is a wizard’s duel?’ he asked, ‘And what do you mean, you’re my second?’. The second question was aimed at Ron, who was about to answer when Peter posed a question to both of them.

‘Are either of you familiar with the terms ‘pistols at dawn’ or ‘throwing down the gauntlet’?’ he asked.

At Ron’s confused expression he continued, ‘It comes from a similar custom in muggle society, although muggles don’t duel much anymore, and if they do it’s generally not to the death.’

Harry paled slightly at that last remark, but Peter continued, ‘It is about one party feeling they’ve been insulted by another and demanding ‘satisfaction’ for it. Occasionally, the demand was signalled by the challenger throwing their glove down in front in them, that was considered a highly insulting gesture, and the challenge was accepted by the other party picking up the glove, hence ‘throwing down the gauntlet’.’

Hermione had taken a seat closer to them by this point, but Peter continued, ‘The two sides would then agree on rules for the duel, like which weapons would be used, when and where the duel would take place, and if there were to be any other witnesses. Duelling with swords was more common before gunpowder and firearms became widely available, but later it was more common to duel with pistols. As for being at dawn, the low light conditions of both dawn and dusk made it more difficult for the authorities to find people trying to duel.’ Having cleared that up for Ron, Peter waited for Ron’s explanation.

Ron went through the wizarding explanation, before suggesting that, if Harry couldn’t make anything happen with his wand, he should punch Malfoy in the face.

Hermione chose this moment to caution them against going out of Gryffindor Tower after curfew, despairing slightly at the number of points they might lose in the process. She was, of course, given the brush-off, particularly after remarking that it seemed to her, rather selfish of both Ron and Harry to do this.

_Well, tonight should be ‘interesting’._

### *~*~*

Peter knew that he’d have to be waiting in the common room at about a quarter-past eleven if he was going to have any chance of persuading them not to go.

Having pulled on a woollen dressing gown, and his sheepskin boots, he descended to the common room, where he found Hermione lying in wait for the other two.

‘They’re walking into a trap,’ He said to Hermione. ‘You do realise this, don’t you?’

Hermione was initially startled, then puzzled, ‘What do you mean?’

‘A member of the house known for its student’s cunning wants to run Harry out of Hogwarts or cost Gryffindor points. What better way to push that along than a “duel” where only Harry and Ron turn up and are found by Filch because Malfoy tipped him off and was never going to show up?’ Peter explained.

‘I see.’ Was all he got in response before his ear twitched picking up the tell-tale sounds of someone coming down the staircase from the male dorms.

‘Shh, they’re coming down,’ he told Hermione.

Harry and Ron came down the stairs and made for the portrait hole. Before they got there, however, Hermione took this opportunity to argue that they should stay and used Peter’s misgivings about it as evidence that they should pack it in. Peter didn’t say much but followed them, knowing that his ears and nose may be all that saves them from being caught out of bed and losing those points Hermione had been upset about.

In the meantime, the argument had taken them outside Gryffindor Tower, where they discovered that The Fat Lady had gone to visit another painting somewhere, leaving all of them stuck outside the common room.

Hermione’s complaint about this had been made in a rather shrill tone of voice, and Peter whipped his head around to glare at her choice of pitch.

The boys decided to keep moving and Hermione caught up shortly afterwards, whilst also trying to think of an excuse that might reduce the number of points, they’d be likely to lose if they were found by Filch or a teacher.

The party collected Neville as well, he’d been locked out of the tower because he’d forgotten the password, and then argued some more. Ron declared that if they got caught because of Neville or Hermione, he’d make sure he learned the Curse of the Bogies and tested his technique on them. Hermione was about to tell Ron how it was done but, Peter nudged her and shook his head at the same time as Harry hissed for everyone to shut up and gestured for them to keep going.

The group made it to the trophy room without being found out and waited for Malfoy and Crabbe to show their faces. Whilst they waited Peter repeated his concerns that it was a set-up and Malfoy had no intention of appearing, but this was dismissed as him being overly cautious. Instead, Ron thought Malfoy had chickened out on the duel.

Then Peter’s ear twitched the tell-tale sign that he’d heard something.

The others had learned this sign quickly, given that cats and kneazles often react the same way, even if they had only been at Hogwarts a short time together.

Peter gesticulated violently to get the attention of his companions and beckoned them to follow him as he made for the door that led away from Filch and Mrs Norris, they got out of the room just before Filch could catch them. Harry bade them to creep along a gallery lined with suits of armour but, they could hear Filch closing in on them as they moved.

Neville’s fear got the better of him and he tried to run, before knocking Ron over with both crashing into a suit of armour.

_Bugger! That was loud, there’s no way Filch didn’t hear it._

Harry yelled for them to run and they took off without much direction, not daring to look over their shoulders to see where Filch was. They eventually ended up by the Charms classroom, where they stopped to catch their breath. Hermione and Peter were both wearing a look which said, ‘I told you so’, but Hermione was the only one to put voice to it right now, Peter was busy trying to pick up on any dangers he could hear or smell.

He also thought they could have the debrief later once they were not at risk of being found and punished.

_Now is not the time for this, Hermione!_ He thought.

They ran into Peeves whom Ron managed to rile up, which was followed quickly by more running after Peeves started shouting. Ron received Peter’s death glare for being responsible for the very loud noises the poltergeist was using to attract Filch’s attention.

_Maybe I should show all of you how much loud and shrill noises hurt my ears, and maybe then you might be a little more considerate,_ He thought as he growled a little.

They ran until they came to a locked door. Dead end.

Hermione saved them from being stuck thereby using the unlocking charm on the door, they piled through and listened closely to what Peeves might say.

That was, Harry, Ron and Hermione were listening, Peter and Neville were not.

Peter had been poking Ron with his hand and Hermione with his tail, whilst Neville was tugging on Harry’s sleeve.

The other three finally turned around and were faced with a large three-headed dog.

This certainly explained why the third-floor corridor they were standing in was off-limits. Peter’s tail flicked back and forth very fast at the sound of the growls coming from the beast, a growl of his own building in his chest. He would fight this creature with his bare paws if it came to it.

Harry, however, decided that it was better to get back to the other side of the door than get mauled and they fell back through it to safety.

After noticing that Filch must have wandered off somewhere else looking for them, the group took off at a run back towards Gryffindor tower, pausing only to give The Fat Lady the password, and finally collapsed into the common room chairs.

After some time to catch her breath, Hermione admonished both Harry and Ron over their little ‘adventure’ and pointed out that the creature was standing on a trapdoor, which she theorised meant it was guarding something, before flouncing out of the room to go to bed. She missed the expression on Peter’s face, which was drawn in a slight frown of concentration as he mulled over what might be the thing Harry had mentioned seeing Hagrid take out of Gringotts. Peter felt he could make a very educated guess about where it was currently located.

### *~*~*

By the next morning, Ron was still feeling the thrill of adventure whilst Neville didn’t want to go anywhere near that dog again, Hermione had decided she wasn’t talking to Ron or Harry for the time being, and Peter was trying not to get any one of them cross with him.

Malfoy looked incredulous but said nothing and stayed at his own table.

A week later Harry got a package and a letter, he’d received a broomstick, a Nimbus 2000 to be precise, from Professor McGonagall, Peter assumed. The other two boys had left the hall in front of him, apparently hoping to find a more private location to open the parcel.

Malfoy appeared to think it was Christmas, he’d got Potter over a barrel now, hadn’t he? Potter was going home now, wasn’t he? After all, first years weren’t allowed brooms, were they?

The rather horrified look on Malfoy’s face when the answer to the first two questions turned out to be no, was something Peter and the boys found very amusing.

Hermione appeared and chastised Harry again for the Remembrall incident in a manner that really wasn’t anything more mature than her calling him a poo-head or something like that, before swanning off with her nose high in the air doing her best Malfoy impression, unintentionally of course.

_Oh, that’s just so mature Hermione. Well done._

Harry and Ron disappeared into their dorm, whilst Peter got on with some other things.  
Later when Harry headed down for Quidditch practice, Ron had found him in his room doing some bits of homework, he wanted to return a book Peter had lent him.

‘Thanks for the book on cricket, Peter,’ said Ron earnestly. He’d been fascinated by some of the descriptions and had asked Peter if he had a book explaining the game.

Peter had lent him one written for people with no previous experience of the game, and similar relatively thin volumes covering the basics of Association football, Australian football and rugby, union of course because there’s only one type of rugby.

_Gregan for President! Wallabies Forever!_

‘No worries, Ron,’ came Peter’s reply.

‘All the sports you lent me books about have been more complicated than I first thought,’ Ron explained.

Peter just looked at him and smiled slightly, ‘Quidditch is the same if you haven’t known about it since you were really small.’

Ron thought a little, and said, ‘I guess, now I know a little about how some muggle-borns feel walking into all of this where everyone just expects you to know these things.’

Peter nodded, ‘Coming into this world at six or eleven, having been told it shouldn’t exist is a bit of a culture shock.’

‘Yeah, well… thanks again,’ Ron said before disappearing.

He did some bits of homework up in his dorm room while listening to the radio that Rachel, his Australian Federal Police liaison officer through the Blackthorne business, had given him as a good luck present, he’d managed to tune it to pick up ABC Local Radio in Melbourne. It got to ten o’clock and he was starting to tire when a familiar theme tune burst through the speaker before a voice proclaimed, ‘Good Morning, this is _AM_. I’m Linda Mottram…’, before he was told what the pressing issues were back home according to Aunty. He listened to _AM_ before calling it a night, feeling much less homesick.

### *~*~*

The evening of October twelfth was not a happy one, late in the evening Peter had been listening to the radio when _AM_ came on and delivered some shocking news. Two bombs had been detonated in nightspots in Bali’s Kuta Beach that were known to be popular amongst Australian tourists, along with another small bomb which exploded outside the United States consulate in Denpasar. This was to become known as the 2002 Bali Bombings. Peter hit an emotional low in the wake of this, feeling as though his countrymen were under attack and could do nothing about it and thinking of the families of those caught in the blasts. The reports in _The Argus_ the next morning didn’t help this feeling. Ron noticed what was going on and tried to help Peter through this, he was a very good friend in this period.

### *~*~*

The thirty-first of October had arrived and brought with it both, the realisation for students that they had been at Hogwarts for two months, and the rather overbearing smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the castle. The smell was entirely pleasant but was still a little overpowering for Peter’s very sensitive nose.

However, he found the increased fascination with pumpkins a bit over the top, wizarding Britain was already very fascinated with all things pumpkin, so the noticeable increase in this to total saturation point got a little hard to cope with at times.

What didn’t help was that Melbournians have never been really hung up on Hallowe’en, given the Tuesday immediately afterwards was a public holiday dedicated to a horse race. The Melbourne Cup had always seemed like a bigger deal. He’d thought briefly about running a mock sweep for the Cup but decided not to, thinking the staff might disapprove of any promotion of gambling.

The day brought with it the announcement by Professor Flitwick in Charms that they were going to get to grips with levitating things around. To this end, he split the class into pairs to practice, which resulted in Ron getting paired with Hermione, it appeared that neither party found this situation particularly agreeable.

A short argument ensued, sparked by Ron’s attempts at casting the Levitation Charm, which led to Ron challenging Hermione to demonstrate what she was saying was the correct method. She cast a perfect Levitation Charm, earning Professor Flitwick’s praise as the first to do so. Peter also cast a perfect charm shortly after Hermione, getting the Professor’s acclamation as well.

By the end of the class Ron was very frustrated and shot off a rather nasty comment about Hermione’s lack of friends, unfortunately, she had been close enough to hear it and hurried off in tears.

_Real smooth there, Weasley._

Hermione obviously wanted to be given some space, considering she did not reappear before dinner, and the only clue as to where she was had been an overheard conversation between Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. Apparently, Hermione was holed up in the toilets, in tears.

_Fixing this is not optional, Weasley._

They were just getting down to the serious business of dinner when Professor Quirrell ran into the hall squealing something about a troll being loose in the dungeons before he collapsed in a dead faint.

_Brilliant, isn’t he supposed to be the one protecting us from this sort of thing?_ Thought Peter, _Well, if that’s true, we’re all going to die._

Dumbledore got the prefects in action quickly, leading students away to their dorms and providing soothing words to frightened youngsters.

As they were heading towards the dorms, Harry suddenly realised that Hermione had no idea that a dangerous creature that could very easily kill her in a second was loose in the castle. At this realisation, Harry dragged Ron off to try and find her. Peter followed them, reasoning that he couldn’t let them get killed because they stumbled into this troll.

_Senses like mine might make the difference between them living or dying right now._

Ron tried to argue the point, but Harry reasoned that Peter’s senses and capacity for navigating the castle would be useful to have with them.

They managed to blend with the crowd of Hufflepuffs, before hurrying towards the girls’ toilets. Peter was leading the group around the corner when the other two noticed his ears twitch before he gestured for them to get against the wall behind a large stone griffin.

Peter whispered, ‘Footsteps, someone’s coming this way.’

‘Probably Percy,’ Whispered Ron.

The three of them watched not Percy but Snape cross the corridor and disappear very quickly.

Harry wondered what he could possibly be doing but, he stopped that thought when he noticed Peter’s nose was twitching like he was trying to pick up a smell. Harry had started them after Snape, but Peter spoke up and stopped all of them in their tracks.

‘Foul stench, grunting, large shuffling feet…’ He listed what he could smell and hear, and worked out what it meant, ‘Troll, coming this way. Hide, fast!’

The three of them ducked into the shadows, Harry and Ron trusting Peter’s senses implicitly. Soon after they’d hidden, the other two heard and smelt what Peter had described, just before the rather unattractive creature lumbered into view dragging its club along the floor. The troll stopped at a doorway, that Peter could see was labelled ‘Girls Toilets’, and it decided to go into the room.

_Oh, Bollocks!_

Unable to read the sign at that distance, or not picking up on it, Harry and Ron took off towards the door to lock the troll inside before Peter could stop them.

Having locked the troll in there they started back towards the dorms.

The high, frantic, panicked scream that came from inside the room stopped Harry and Ron, dead in their tracks. Peter darted from his hiding spot to the door, turning the key just as Harry and Ron caught up with him.

They wrenched the door open and hurried inside, to see Hermione, pale and frightened, shrinking against the wall farthest from the troll as it advanced on her, wrecking the room and fixings in the process.

Harry threw a tap against the wall as a distraction, drawing the creature’s attention before Ron yelled and threw something at it. As Harry failed to get Hermione to move on his first attempt, the noise they were making was working the troll into an angry frenzy.

The beast had advanced on Ron and raised its club in an attack, Peter made a lunging run, and crash-tackled Ron out of the way of the club by mere inches.

Harry decided now was the time to jump on the troll’s back and shove his wand up its nose, the beast roared in pain and began to thrash around trying to get Harry off.

Realising they needed precious seconds to get out alive, Peter managed to get to the troll’s feet, and sank his teeth and claws into its ankle, it did little more than distract the creature, and the taste was something he never wanted to experience again.

But he had achieved the desired effect, giving Ron time to get up and cast a Levitation Charm on the troll’s club, lifting high into the air before dropping it on the troll’s head, knocking it unconscious. The sound of this was not pleasant, and Peter was cursing his ears again.

Harry retrieved his wand and cleaned it off before Professors McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell burst into the room, they all thought they were for the high jump.

And Quirrell’s proximity wasn’t helping Peter keep his composure, as he shortly began feeling very nauseous at the smell that seemed to hang around the Professor.

And then Hermione did what they’d thought was unthinkable, she lied to Professor McGonagall’s face, saying they had come to find her after she’d gone looking for the troll thinking she could deal with it herself.

‘If they hadn’t found me, I’d be dead now. Peter tackled Ron clear of its club, Harry stuck his wand up its nose, Peter bit and scratched its leg, and Ron knocked it out with its own club,’ she said, finishing her explanation.

The boys tried their hardest to look like this wasn’t a surprise, whilst Hermione had five points taken from Gryffindor before being sent up to the tower.

The boys thought they were about to be punished too, when Professor McGonagall awarded them five points each, basically for being alive at the end of this event and sent them up to their dorms.

Hermione had waited by the door to the common room, and together as a quartet mumbled ‘Thanks’ to each other a little awkwardly, before hurrying off to get plates and have some dinner.

_Friendships forged in fire can be the strongest of all._

Peter suspected that they were going to be good friends from now on.


	6. Chapter Six: Quidditch and Conversations.

November began with the promise of Quidditch matches getting started for the year, with the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match fast approaching.

Harry had been relieved to have become good friends with both Hermione and Peter as he worked towards his first match, they were able to help him keep up with his homework and classes, as well as getting to all the extra training sessions Oliver Wood was putting the team through. Both had lent him Quidditch books, Hermione _Quidditch Through the Ages_, and Peter _Quidditch and its Influence on the Australian Continent_, Harry found both of these titles very interesting.

He used them to learn all about the various possible fouls one could commit in the game, and how one World Cup match in 1473 included an example of all of them being committed, although that list did not include match forfeiture due to a club trying to host a match whilst a cricket or Aussie rules football match was occurring on the grass below.

Now that Hermione had gained three good friends, she had unwound and relaxed a little, this did her a power of good and she was much easier to get along with.

The morning of Wednesday, the fifth of November, was unexpectedly interesting for the Quartet. It started with Deak swooping in and dropping a newspaper in Peter’s lap, it was the Wednesday edition of _The Argus_ newspaper from Melbourne which had the winner of the Melbourne Cup splashed across its broadsheet front page.

Peter and his family had been very surprised to find out that _The Argus_ hadn’t closed as reported, it had stopped taking muggle subscribers and was now Melbourne’s principal wizarding newspaper, delivering news items from both communities within its pages.

‘I’ve always wondered how they come up with names for racehorses.’ Said Peter rather suddenly, the other three looked confused at this comment, wondering where this was going.

‘I mean, this name “Media Puzzle”,’ he said, showing the paper to his companions. ‘Why would you name a horse that?’

Hermione responded first, ‘I don’t know. I’ve never really been interested in horse racing.’

‘You aren’t one of those girls who wanted a pony for Christmas?’ asked Peter breaking into a smile.

‘No. And I’m not all that crazy about having pink stuff either,’ Hermione answered with a slight glare.

‘What newspaper is that?’ asked Ron.

‘_The Argus_, the “wizarding newspaper of Melbourne and Victoria”,’ came Peter’s answer.

‘I thought _The Daily Prophet_ was the only wizarding newspaper around,’ replied Ron.

Harry thought a moment, ‘There’d have to be others around the world, you can’t have one newspaper for the whole world.’

‘I suppose not,’ conceded Ron.

‘Well, the good news is that Steve Bracks will still be my Premier after November 30th,’ said Peter, moving on to other stories in the paper.

‘How do you know?’ asked Hermione.

‘I’ve been watching this stuff closely for a while now,’ Peter explained. ‘The patterns of politics are easy to pick up if you’re also looking at what the politicians and media aren’t saying as well as what they are, along with what they do or don’t do.’

‘Thinking about that hurts my head,’ moaned Hermione.

‘Well, you’re a very factual person,’ explained Peter. ‘Politics ends up being mostly based on things other than facts, so I’m not surprised you’re struggling to reason out my prediction right now.’

Hermione looked doubtful, despite Peter promising to explain how he could know these things this far out once the result was known. Ron and Harry had no idea how Peter could predict that if he wasn’t a seer, Peter insisted it was based purely on observing events as they were unfolding. The others decided to discuss it again once the election was over and the results were in.

The rest of the week was spent studying, Harry alternately pouring over both _Quidditch Through the Ages_ and _Quidditch and its Impact on the Australian Continent_.

The day before the match brought an unfortunate run-in with Professor Snape, they’d been huddled around a blue fire in a jam jar Hermione had conjured, examining _Quidditch Through the Ages_, when Snape limped into the courtyard. The Professor decided that he was going to confiscate the book, on the flimsy pretext of _‘library books are not to be taken outside’_, Peter suspected that Snape was just trying to get at Harry any way he could.

They wondered what could have injured him like that, the wheels of Peter’s mind turning to what were the most plausible options for an explanation for such an injury and the list was not long when it came to things around the school that could do that, one of those was himself when sufficiently provoked.

### *~*~*

Just after dinner that night, Dumbledore decided to have a fireworks display for the whole school, to mark Guy Fawkes Night. Later the Quartet were encamped in Peter’s room in Gryffindor tower, making use of a quieter space to study than the common room that night, going over their Charms homework, which of course meant Peter and Hermione were checking over Harry and Ron’s work as well as each other’s and **no copying allowed by anyone**.

Peter quickly proved he was a little better at getting Harry and Ron to tease out the right answers themselves, often asking questions and getting them to explain what they understood, leading them towards the answer whilst not outright giving it to them.

Hermione admired the way he could get the other two to find a way to engage with just about anything and give very simple methodical explanations of some of the concepts they were grappling with, and his analogies were very good.

Harry was tense, noticeably so, he was getting very nervous about his first match as seeker tomorrow and really wanted to get _Quidditch Through the Ages_ back, as a distraction from his nerves. Harry got up deciding to try and get the book back, it was an endeavour the other three were not all that interested in joining in with. Peter thought that it may antagonise Snape and make things worse.

_Let’s not make things worse right now._

A few minutes later Harry reappeared, out of breath and without the book.

Harry soon told them that he’d seen Filch helping Professor Snape with the Professor’s badly injured leg and that Snape had commented on how hard keeping track of three heads was.

‘That would certainly be capable of damage like that,’ said Peter.

‘But you also said you could cause those sorts of injuries,’ countered Hermione.

‘True, but people like me are a bit thin on the ground here,’ argued Peter. ‘I didn’t do that to him and there aren’t any others like me around, so I think we can discount that option.’

‘I think it means he tried to get past the three-headed dog on Hallowe’en,’ Harry declared. ‘That’s where he was heading when we saw him before we found you, Hermione, he’s after what it's protecting!’

‘Possibly,’ Said Peter thoughtfully. ‘But why use a troll as a diversion? He’d know that Quirrell wouldn’t be up to dealing with it, and the risk of it bashing its way into the Slytherin dorms in the time it would take for the other teachers to organise would be too great.’

‘True,’ Conceded Ron. ‘But it’s still suspicious.’

Hermione conceded that point too, ‘I know. But I can’t think of a good reason for him to try and steal something that Dumbledore is trying to protect, even if he’s needlessly unpleasant to us.’

‘Honestly Hermione, do you think all the teachers are saints —’ Ron started.

Peter cut him off, ‘No, she’s not saying that. I’m not saying that. What we’re asking is, why? What reason does he have to do something like that? And what if he was trying to protect it from someone else getting at it? We need something more than guesswork based on what we’ve got now before we accuse a teacher like this.’

‘He’s right, Ron,’ said Harry. ‘We don’t even know what the thing that’s being protected is. We need to find that out before we can tell if Snape is trying to steal it.’

Ron seemed to be picking up on the vibe of thinking about this for more than a few seconds and came to a realisation which he shared.

‘I’m starting to think Snape is a little too obvious as a bad guy,’ he started.

‘Go on,’ encouraged Hermione.

‘I mean he’s so nasty to everyone, and he doesn’t try to hide it very much,’ he explained. ‘Wouldn’t someone trying to go against Dumbledore in his own school want to blend in a bit more?’

‘Makes sense,’ acknowledged Harry.

‘That makes me think that stinking of garlic and such all the time and wearing that stupid turban rules out Quirrell as well,’ Peter added.

‘Argh… we’re not getting anywhere on this,’ Hermione complained. ‘Maybe we should sleep and see what comes up tomorrow.’

The group agreed with this sentiment, and the others left Peter alone in his room to go through his night-time routine before getting some sleep.

### *~*~*

The following morning was both bright and cold, the Great Hall was filled with students happily eating breakfast and talking excitedly about the Quidditch match to come that day.

Meanwhile, Ron, Hermione and Peter were trying to get Harry to eat something before he went down to the pitch to play. They’d been battling uphill, Harry wasn’t interested in any food. At. All.

By eleven the whole school appeared to have assembled in the stands around the Quidditch pitch, many of the assembled in possession of binoculars or other viewing aids, no one wanted to miss out on any part of the action. Ron, Hermione and Peter found Neville, who was with both Seamus and Dean, up in the nosebleeds. They soon unfurled a large banner they had made in honour of Harry’s first match which was inscribed with _Potter for President_ and a large Gryffindor lion of Dean’s design, Hermione had worked out how to charm it to flash different colours. During the construction process, Peter had pointed out that people may wonder what they were thinking that Harry should be made president of, however this attempt at humour did not go over well with the rest of the group.

The players emerged, took their positions and they, along with everyone else, waited for Madam Hooch to get things underway. The whistle was blown, and the match got underway with Gryffindor taking first blood with the Quaffle.

Hagrid arrived to watch the match from the stands instead of his hut, asking after Harry. Ron told him that the Snitch hadn’t appeared yet, and so Harry had not had a lot to do yet.

Peter could see Harry hovering up high, he dodged a Bludger and went back to scanning for the Snitch, when it zipped past the ear of Adrian Pucey and he dropped the Quaffle.

Harry and the Slytherin Seeker Terrance Higgs now had the undivided attention of everyone in the stadium as they raced each other for the Snitch. And then Marcus Flint committed what could, in the most generous terms, be described as a dog act, he slammed into Harry deliberately trying to block him from catching the Snitch. The little golden ball disappeared whilst the crowd and the Gryffindor team howled for a foul, Madam Hooch agreed with their assessment and reprimanded Flint angrily, before providing Gryffindor with a penalty shot on goal. Dean thought Flint should be sent off for that, Hagrid and Peter agreed even if the rules didn’t allow for it. Alicia Spinnet took the shot, which she made without difficulty and the game carried on.

Peter had been watching Harry dodge another Bludger when he saw Harry’s broom give a sharp lurch, Harry had tightened his grip on his broom with all his limbs to avoid falling off. Peter pointed this out to Ron, Hermione, Hagrid and the rest of the group.

‘Something’s not right with Harry’s broom,’ he said.

Hagrid and the others, except Ron and Hermione, dismissed that comment, thinking Harry was just shaken up after getting hit.

‘There it goes again,’ Peter stated. ‘That does not look like nervousness to me.’

Harry’s broom had begun to buck and swerve despite his best efforts to keep control.

Hagrid finally noticed this was a broom out of control, and theories began to be expressed by those assembled around the group. Hermione took this opportunity to snatch Hagrid’s binoculars, at the same moment as Peter raised his own pair. Both of them had had the same idea as they scanned the crowd, Hermione spotted Professor Snape first, seeing him muttering a spell with his eyes fixed on Harry, she told Ron this before taking off to do something. She left before Peter could tell her he’d spotted Professor Quirrell doing the same, but this was soon moot as Hermione knocked him over in her hurry to get to Snape. Hermione conjured blue flames and set them on Snape’s robes, just long enough to distract him, before she made her way back to her seat.

Meantime with control of his broom restored, Harry had been able to climb back on and set off towards the ground at speed, before his hand went to his mouth as if he was going to be sick.

_Don’t puke, Harry. Don’t puke!_

Harry hit the grass on his hands and knees and coughed before a gold ball dropped from his mouth into his hand. He’d caught the Snitch and won the game for Gryffindor.

### *~*~*

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Peter and Hagrid adjourned to Hagrid’s hut, where everyone was provided with a strong cup of tea. Ron started in on his theory as to what had happened.

‘It was Snape, Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn’t take his eyes off you.’

‘Quirrell was doing the same before Hermione knocked him over,’ explained Peter. ‘So, one of them was cursing, and one of them was counter-cursing. But, because we couldn’t hear what each was saying, we don’t know for certain who was doing what.’

‘Rubbish,’ said Hagrid firmly. He’d not been paying attention to what was going on in the stands at the time, ‘Why would Snape or Quirrell do a thing like that?’

The Quartet looked to each other wondering whether to take Hagrid into their confidence. Harry decided they should and tell him the truth. He told Hagrid about seeing where Snape was going on Hallowe’en night, and that the Professor had gotten a serious leg injury, which he blamed on the three-headed dog. Pressing on, he told Hagrid that they thought Snape was trying to steal whatever the dog is guarding.

Hagrid asked them about how they knew about the dog, whose name was apparently Fluffy, and an argument ensued, which was steadily giving Peter a headache, so he stayed out of it. Hagrid attempted to set them straight about the Professors they’d named, but ended up giving up a name, Nicolas Flamel, as being involved in all of this. Hagrid was rather upset with himself over this and sent the group back up to the castle.

### *~*~*

The Quartet made their way up the hill to the castle, put in a short appearance at the victory party, and were soon firmly encamped in Peter’s room once again. Hermione observed that this room was becoming something of a sanctuary for them, away from the crowd and noise of the common room when they needed some quiet.

They had, at Hermione’s insistence, pulled out some homework to try and study, but Peter couldn’t focus, his tail swished back and forth like a cat stalking something. In fact, he was thinking that he was certain he’d heard or read the name Nicolas Flamel somewhere before. Finally, the need to nut this out, otherwise it would keep bugging him, won out and he got up and walked over to his wardrobe, pushing things aside until he could pull out a heavily enchanted black despatch box. The box had the badge of the Australian Federal Police emblazoned on the lid along with shiny silver letters underneath it, declaring, _Australian Federal Police. Magical Crimes and Investigations (Auror) Division._ Hermione noticed this box as soon as Peter pulled it out of his wardrobe and set it down on the coffee table.

‘Are you supposed to have this?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ replied Peter. ‘The court decided to grant me a copy of all the materials related to the case.’

‘Why?’ asked Harry.

‘Because they felt that I would need them, so I could figure out how my body works these days,’ Peter said quietly.

He unlocked the box with it’s key, the box was protected against magical tampering and the key could only be used by the authorised person, and then lifted the lid to reveal a black leather folder sitting on top of a lip around the inside of the box. The folder was labelled with the AFP badge, followed by the same two lines as on the lid of the box. Underneath those, embossed in a larger typeface were the words, _Information and Materials Related to the Case Against Cain Blackthorne._ Hermione gasped on reading this, her hand flying up to cover her mouth, her eyes wide. Ron and Harry were surprised by her reaction and watched as Peter brushed his fingers over the letters before carefully picking up the folder and setting it on the coffee table. The other three noticed that a kind of reverence had come over Peter as he handled the contents of the box.

‘Who’s Cain Blackthorne?’ asked Ron carefully.

‘Cain Blackthorne is the alchemist who kidnapped me when I was three,’ Peter explained quietly. ‘He subjected me to one of his experiments, the results of which you can see in my outward appearance.’

‘His gang tried to do the same to my younger brother,’ Hermione explained with a very shaky whisper.

Harry and Ron both looked aghast at those comments.

Peter went on, ‘No one knows exactly how many “subjects” he used that way, and precisely what he did to each of them.’

‘Surely the Aurors would have found all of it, wouldn’t they?’ queried Ron.

‘It’s not quite that simple,’ explained Peter. ‘Because the Aurors in Australia are a part of the Australian Federal Police, they have to follow AFP procedures around chains of evidence and such. It means they can’t use things like Veritaserum, or polygraph tests in evidence because they’re inadmissible in court.’

‘So, they’d have to rely on what they could find by physically searching,’ started Harry. ‘or what they could get out of a suspect through officially recorded interviews?’

Peter nodded, ‘Yes, that’s what makes it so difficult to find this stuff, especially because Blackthorne probably burnt some of his notes, and hid others somewhere he refused to reveal the location of.’

‘Blimey, talk about “rough end of the pineapple”,’ said Ron, borrowing a phrase he’d heard Peter use before.

Peter smiled at his friend’s correct use of the term and the support it was expressing.

‘You’re certainly right there, Ron,’ Peter responded.

By now Peter had set the folder on the coffee table and retrieved his snow gum wand, by snapping his fingers and watching his wand appear in his hand. He gently opened the folder and turned the pages until he came to the table of contents. The others watched intently, seeing several different unfamiliar terms, both muggle and magical, typed out on the pages. One of them was Bubastisan, upon which there was a short chapter which apparently explained the origins of the term, judging by the subheadings listed. Hermione’s curiosity got the better of her about it and she decided to ask about it.

‘What does that word, Bubastisan, mean?’ she asked, butchering the pronunciation slightly.

‘Firstly, its pronounced _BYOUbass-tissan_, secondly, Blackthorne explains that he takes it to mean “Of Bubastis” or “Of the House of Bastet”,’ answered Peter.

‘What’s a Bastet?’ asked Ron.

‘Bastet is an Egyptian goddess, often represented as a cat or a woman with the head of a cat,’ explained Hermione. ‘Her role as a deity changed over time like a lot of the other Egyptian gods.’

Peter nodded and picked up the explanation, ‘Blackthorne decided to use that word as a name for the people who ended up like me, he called us Bubastisans because Bastet was the earliest recorded depiction of a kind of human-feline hybrid he could find in history.’

In truth he didn’t like adopting that name for his species, it felt like giving in to being defined by Blackthorne, something he flat out refused to do.

‘So, are you a Bubastisan?’ asked Ron.

Peter couldn’t blame him for asking, particularly because the word human doesn’t fit any more.

‘No, someone in the AFP Case Team came up with a better, more neutral, name,’ Peter explained. ‘They came up with felidian and took it to mean “of feline resemblance”. I have to say I like that better than Blackthorne’s choice.’

Ron’s lips twitched, Peter noticed this of course.

‘You call me a _tom_ or _tomcat_ and I will slap you,’ Said Peter firmly.

Harry and Hermione started to giggle uncontrollably, as Ron feigned innocence.

‘Would I ever do that?’ asked Ron, struggling to hide a smile.

‘Yes!’ was the unanimous response of the other three.

‘Alright, I was only joking. Bloody hell,’ was Ron’s response.

Peter continued his explanations, ‘But, another name was come up with, which the court decided fitted more closely, which is tigrian. Since Blackthorne used a mix of tiger and kneazle in his catalyst. Of course, kneazles must be kept secret, so that leaves the tiger as a source of a species name that can be published in both communities.’

‘Ok,’ said Harry.

‘_Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night_…’ started Hermione.

This was met with a firm glare from Peter.

‘And I suppose that just _had_ to be said, didn’t it My?’

‘Of course,’ giggled Hermione.

‘Yeah, Tiger,’ put in Ron.

‘Don’t call me “Tiger”, if you want a nickname use “PD”,’ Peter said firmly. ‘You’re lucky I’ve got the box open otherwise I might hex you.’

Hermione seemed to realise something, ‘I’m not sure I like people calling me My.’

‘Where I come from, you’re not a mate unless you’ve got a nickname, eh Bluey?’ Peter responded, directing the last part of his comment at Ron.

Ron scowled in response.

They took a couple of minutes to settle down, before Peter got back to what he was looking for, an extract of Blackthorne’s diary where he talked about the great people he admired.

‘I thought I saw that name in here somewhere,’ he said.

‘What name?’ asked Harry.

‘Nicolas Flamel,’ replied Peter. ‘I’m sure Blackthorne wrote about his ambition to be compared with Flamel one day.’

Peter found the entry and used his wand to summon it from the box. It did not contain any useful information aside from the fact that Nicolas Flamel was someone whose achievements Blackthorne aspired to emulate. Peter was unimpressed with this outcome.

‘Well, that was a bust,’ he said.

‘Oh, I dunno, we learned that you’re a tigrian known as “PD”, so it wasn’t a total waste,’ observed Ron.

Harry suddenly thought of something he didn’t ask on the train.

‘What did you mean that the core of your snow gum wand has a drop of your own blood in it?’ he asked.

Hermione was stunned, and Ron was trying to remember when he’d been told this. Peter repeated the explanation of his wands for Hermione, she was shocked.

‘Blood, as in your blood?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’ the other three asked at once.

‘Because it creates a permanent bond between the wand and the wizard or witch, and wands in Australia are custom made to serve their witch or wizard for life,’ Peter explained. ‘It also means that a wand made like that will never change its allegiance, as it carries a part of the person it was made for and be can’t be turned against someone who carries the same blood as in the core.’

‘Is that also why you can snap your fingers and have your wand appear in your hand?’ inquired Hermione.

‘Yes,’ answered Peter.

Deciding that this search wasn’t going to yield any more information, the group went back to studying for a while before breaking for dinner and deciding that they’ll deal with Nicolas Flamel tomorrow.

### *~*~*

Monday was November eleventh, Remembrance Day, and Headmaster Dumbledore had begun a tradition of holding an observance for the whole school at eleven o’clock that morning since he had become Headmaster. Harry, Hermione and Ron were all wearing a red poppy pinned to their robes, Peter had made them. The tigrian was wearing one along with a sprig each of both rosemary and wattle, his friends also noticed that he was very solemn that day, but that would be a question for another time.

All the residents of Hogwarts behaved themselves, under the threat that any disrespectful act from students or staff would result in the house they belonged to being disqualified from both the House and Quidditch cups for that year, a threat which kept even Draco Malfoy and his goons in line.

Peter gently told his friends that he needed some space for the rest of the day, a request they completely respected.


	7. Chapter Seven: Mirrors, Desires, Tigrians and Literature.

The eighth of December was a Sunday, which dawned as cold and frosty morning without much enticement to climb out of a nice warm comfy bed. But soon enough the Quartet found themselves sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall enjoying their breakfast as Deak made his way down to his tigrian friend to deliver _The Sunday Argus_. Given that it had by now been a week since the Victorian State Election, Peter decided to try to explain what factors he had observed that led him to his prediction that Steve Bracks and the Victorian Branch of the Australian Labor Party were going to win.

Hermione was sceptical, as it was explained that public sentiment was running against the opposition and therefore it was always going to be an uphill battle for them to get the seats necessary to replace the government.

‘How do you know?’ she asked. ‘Because just reading the papers wouldn’t tell you that.’

‘Letters to the editor and the occasional snippets of talkback radio that I could pick up,’ came Peter’s answer. ‘Any point where the public at large get to put their comments into the media without it being edited or slanted by the media outlets is a good gauge.’

‘But, how do you know those comments are genuine?’ asked Ron.

It was a fair question.

Peter considered a moment, then answered, ‘Look for the media outlets that would have their credibility trashed if they did something like that, it’s usually a good indicator.’

‘But, how would you know that the opinion polls would resemble the final vote?’ asked Hermione.

‘Simple,’ Peter began. ‘Compulsory voter registration, the electorate has a turnout rate of ninety per cent or better.’

‘Right, so of course the trend transfers,’ Said Hermione, before she sighed noticeably. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever understand politics, it’s so complex, unclear and illogical.’

Peter sympathised, ‘Yeah, but that’s what you lot have got me here for. I’ll always try to help you make sense of this stuff.’

Harry, Hermione and Ron agreed that their friendship with the young tigrian went deeper than that, but they’d appreciate his efforts none the less.

### *~*~*

By the middle of the month, there was snow on the ground and the definite sense that Christmas was on its way, it was as though Hogwarts itself was getting ready to put on a show for the season. The lake was frozen over completely, and Fred and George decided to bewitch several snowballs to follow Professor Quirrell around. The twins copped some punishment for it but were apparently feeling it was worth it. Those few hardy feathered souls who made it to the castle to deliver the post had to spend some time in Hagrid’s makeshift “Owl Clinic”, before taking to the wing once again, although Deak wasn’t among them. It was about now that Peter began to suspect that _The Argus_ was being delivered to the castle or Hogsmeade from Australia House by means other than an owl and that Deak merely picked it up for the final leg of the journey. He’d have to investigate that some other time.

Everyone in the castle was eagerly awaiting the start of the holiday break. The main problem that the inhabitants of the castle had to face was the freezing cold draughty corridors and classrooms, the low temperature threatening to freeze the snot dribbling out of your nose. The arguments to leave the common rooms and the Great Hall during this time became less persuasive as the temperature fell, but classes and other things that required leaving the warm spaces were not going to stop just because it was cold. Peter found himself alone among his classmates, in that he wasn’t really feeling the cold, even in Professor Snape’s potions classes in the dungeons as his classmates huddled as close as possible to their cauldrons to keep warm as they worked.

Draco Malfoy had decided to change tack on ridiculing Harry, instead of trying to make jokes about Harry being replaced as Gryffindor Seeker, which no one else was finding funny due to the respect Harry had gained by managing to hang on his out of control broomstick. Draco had returned to some more familiar ground and was now taunting Harry about his lack of parents.

The fact it was true that Harry wasn’t going back to his relatives over Christmas wasn’t the point, Ron and his brothers were also staying at Hogwarts because his parents were visiting his brother Charlie in Romania, but the fact remained that Malfoy was just being a prat for the sake of it.

After one potions class, when Malfoy had been mouthing off again, they came up towards the Great Hall and encountered Hagrid heaving a large fir tree into the castle. Malfoy decided to insult Ron’s family, which of course led to Ron taking the bait by diving at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs. The confrontation cost Ron five points for Gryffindor and left Harry cursing both Malfoy and Snape’s names. Hagrid decided to try to cheer up the group by taking them through to the Great Hall to see Professors McGonagall and Flitwick decorating the space in time for the Christmas feast.

The Quartet only stayed a short time before going up to the library to continue their search for Nicolas Flamel, which despite Hermione’s formidable researching skills continued to prove fruitless, all they knew about him continued to be that Cain Blackthorne had admired him, wanted to be mentioned in the same breath as him and compared to him. Harry and Ron had promised to continue the search and send both Hermione and Peter any news of what they found, as even though Peter would be on the other side of the world, letters could still be sent through if your owl knew what to do.

### *~*~*

Peter left Hogwarts, initially for Australia House before travelling to home to Melbourne, to spend Christmas with his family as he always had, and to be dragged off to see a movie by his mates. Whilst he was away with his family for Christmas, he worked out something about a series of four books in his fiction collection which seemed, looking back on it now, to bear a striking resemblance to events and people he’d run across in his time at Hogwarts. Along with the film he was taken to see, as well as its predecessor.

Because of this he began to re-read the books much more closely and started to dig around in the case materials about himself. Hermione would have been surprised at the amount of time he was spending at the State Library in Melbourne, researching Nicolas Flamel, Cain Blackthorne, the magic used to create the tigrian species, J.K. Rowling, and how seers do their work. In six days, he’d compiled an enormous volume of transcriptions and copies of library materials, with the help of some rather enthusiastic researchers who were looking into the background and creation of the tigrian species. They had been only too happy to help someone who was prepared to submit to interviews about his lived experience as a tigrian and uncovered more information as a team in six days than he could have hoped for on his own in six months. It was an avalanche of information that this group helpfully distilled down into several summaries that Peter could thrust in front of someone like Crabbe or Goyle and have them understand the basics.

Peter sent letters to the other three, telling them he’d called in a favour with some full-time researchers in Melbourne and found an enormous amount of information on the people and issues they had been looking into without success so far. Hermione’s reply came quickly and was very excited about the fact that he’d found something concrete to go on, whereas Harry and Ron wrote only to say they were very grateful and were looking forward to hearing and reading what he’d found.

### *~*~*

Peter got back to Hogwarts on the same day as Hermione and had been just as startled as she when Harry explained what he and Ron had been up to after they thanked each other for their Christmas presents. The boys had apparently been out wandering the castle three nights in row and had run across a very special mirror, it had shown Harry and Ron very different things and Harry explained that was because the Mirror of Erised showed each person who looked into it the deepest, most treasured and desperate desire locked up in the furthest depths of your heart.

Hermione was a little miffed that the boys who’d stayed behind hadn’t been looking for Nicolas Flamel at all but, was less upset than she would otherwise have been knowing Peter had the answers she was craving. However, that better outlook on this didn’t last, as the new term got started and the Quartet was never quite able to get the time for the major information exchange required. Harry’s time was more stretched than the others as Quidditch training had restarted, with Wood working the team very hard. At the end of the second week of term, Peter had come downstairs after finishing some muggle homework, he didn’t get any breaks from doing the work required by his muggle school back in Australia, and found Ron and Hermione engrossed in a game of wizard’s chess. Chess was one of the few things they had found where Hermione’s performance and abilities didn’t wipe the floor with everyone, it was a short but slowly growing list and the other three thought it was very healthy for her to engage in these things, to keep her ego in check.

Harry chose this moment to emerge from the portrait hole looking rather glum and told his three mates that Professor Snape was set to referee the upcoming Quidditch match against Slytherin. Although not picking Snape as the sole suspect in attempting to steal whatever Fluffy’s treasure was, the four of them all conceded that this was likely not a good sign and Harry was seriously considering not playing.

Towards the end of this conversation, Neville oozed through the portrait hole and out onto the floor of the common room and by the way he was moving, he’d had his legs bound in a Leg-Locker Curse. Most of the inhabitants of the common room found themselves unable to contain their amusement at the situation in front of them, Hermione was not among them. Being on his feet at the time meant Peter was the first one in the room to pull their wand, perform the counter-curse and give Neville a hand to get back to his feet, all whilst he was chuckling lightly.

‘Let me guess, you ran into our “esteemed” Slytherin colleague Mr Malfoy, right?’ Peter asked, the second part of the question heavily laced with sarcasm.

‘Yes,’ replied Neville. ‘Outside the library, he said he had been looking for someone to practise it on.’

‘You should go to Professor McGonagall and report him!’ urged Hermione.

Neville shook his head and mumbled something about not making more trouble. Ron and Peter tried to convince him that Malfoy had to be cut down to size, the sooner the better. But Neville was feeling like he didn’t belong amongst the house of scarlet and gold. Peter, Ron and Hermione all scoffed at this idea, whilst Harry offered Neville strong encouragement and a chocolate frog. Neville took the frog and gave Harry the famous wizard card, before taking his leave.

Peter decided that now was the time to round up his three friends and share the information he’d been provided with, and soon had all of them upstairs on the couches of his dorm room.

‘Ok, so I did a favour for some researchers in Melbourne by sitting for some interviews about how I was living life as a young male tigrian,’ Peter began. ‘And they, in turn, helped me out with some research into some things I wanted to find out about. One of them was Nicolas Flamel, the six-hundred-and-sixty-five-year-old alchemist.’

Harry looked at the back of the famous wizard card he’d gotten from Neville and gasped noting that the answer had been under his nose the whole time. At the same time, Hermione bolted from the room to collect a rather large old tome.

‘I can’t believe I didn’t think to check in here!’ she said on her return. ‘I checked this out of the library weeks ago for some light reading.’

‘That’s “light” reading is it?’ asked Ron, wearing an expression which said, _‘You’re barmy’_.

Before Hermione’s glare at Ron could develop into an argument, Peter stepped in.

‘Getting back to the information I’ve got on Flamel,’ He started. ‘Those nice researchers were kind enough to summarise the key points.’ He said handing each of his companions a copy of the summary.

Peter had highlighted the parts of the report they were most concerned with, which read:

_Nicolas Flamel is a highly accomplished, gifted and decorated alchemist…_

_…he is also the only person currently known or recorded to have successfully created the substance known as the Philosopher’s Stone. This legendary alchemical compound is recorded, by some sources which may or may not be reliable, as possessing truly extraordinary powers. The recorded accounts indicate that the stone, when used properly, is capable of transforming any metal into pure gold and is critical to the production of the Elixir of Life, a substance reputed to grant the drinker immortality. No verifiable accounts currently exist of persons who have consumed the Elixir of Life. The only stone whose existence can be verified is currently in the possession of its creator, Mr Flamel…_

_  
_

‘You see! The dog must be guarding that stone!’ blurted Hermione. ‘Nicolas Flamel must have found out someone was after it and asked his friend Dumbledore to help him protect it. That would explain why the stone was moved from Gringotts.’

‘A stone which could be used to make gold or make you immortal!’ said Harry, ‘It’s no wonder Snape’s after it!’

‘Or Quirrell,’ commented Peter.

‘Right. And it’s no wonder we couldn’t find him in that _Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_,’ said Ron. ‘He’s not really recent if he’s six hundred and sixty-five years old, is he?’

Peter moved on to the next subject he wanted to bring up with them, those odd books and films that seemed to detail events very similar to what they had been through.

‘I’ve also come across these books,’ Peter began, indicating the stack of volumes on the coffee table. ‘They’re apparently being adapted into films as well, but that’s not what drew my attention to them.’

‘I’ve read them, and I’ve seen the films,’ interjected Hermione. ‘It feels so spooky, like your reading about your past and your future.’

‘Ok,’ said Harry.

‘So, what are they about and who wrote them?’ asked Ron.

‘They are about us, with Harry as the focus, although PD doesn’t appear,’ Hermione answered.

‘They were written by a woman named Joanne Rowling, Pen name J.K. Rowling,’ continued Peter. ‘Apparently, she is a muggle who is very sensitive to magic, possibly from a line of squibs with similar sensitivities, they would probably be called mystics by muggles. These books have been written based on Jo’s visions of what are supposed to be your lives, particularly yours, Harry. The books also contain several sideways looks at other events as well.’

‘Right, this is a little creepy,’ said Harry. ‘I never thought that I’d be the subject of the visions of a mystic dressed up as “muggle fiction”.’

They all agreed it was weird but couldn’t discuss it properly until both Harry and Ron had read the books and seen the films. So, Peter once again moved on to the next subject he wanted to discuss.

‘I’ve been given some information about myself and my species, the most important of which came from Blackthorne’s notes,’ he began. ‘His experiments apparently show that tigrians are only ones who can impersonate other tigrians using a Polyjuice potion, that tigrians are, by design, near completely immune to entrancement, the Imperious Curse, Legilimency and Veritaserum, and that there is a potion which can change my fur colour temporarily.’

‘Wow,’ Replied Ron. ‘So, what are the downsides of being a tigrian?’

‘Migraines that last up to five hours after changing between forms, which you saw in Transfiguration,’ Peter began. The others murmured that they remembered, and it didn’t look comfortable. ‘Headaches induced by being able to hear nearly every whisper or little noise in a room, being easily dazzled by bright lights, experiencing sharp pain at very loud and extremely high-pitched noises, and retching every time I get close to someone like Professor Quirrell.’

Harry, Hermione and Ron took all of this in and looked at him like he was leaving something out. Finally, Peter relented.

‘And I struggle with my defensive reflexes when I’m taken by surprise, as you saw with Snape,’ he sighed. ‘And apparently, in my future lie some seriously strong hormones.’

‘So, definitely “not all beer and skittles” then?’ asked Harry.

‘Correct,’ replied Peter.

They left that conversation there, deciding to come back to it later. However, Harry, Ron and Hermione had noticed their tigrian friend was feeling low again.

‘Are you alright mate?’ asked Ron. ‘You seem a bit down.’

‘The South East of the Australian Mainland is on fire again, Canberra and the Alps this time,’ said Peter very quietly. ‘Bushfires scare the crap of me.’

‘Does this happen a lot?’ Harry asked.

‘Pretty much annually,’ sighed Peter quietly.

His companions were as understanding as they could be, but it was still shocking to them seeing the pictures of the fires in the paper each morning. The whole Quartet hoped that the bushfire season would be over quickly without people getting hurt.

The Quartet spent much of the next day discussing what they would do with a Philosopher’s Stone before Harry was reminded about the coming Quidditch match. Harry told his three friends that he was going to play in that match, all three of his best mates wished him luck and earnestly hoped that he wouldn’t get injured for his troubles.

### *~*~*

It took until the Sunday before the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff match for Ron and Harry to get through the books and films, not because they were avoiding it but because it had been difficult to find the time in between everything else.

The everything else included Valentine’s Day on the Friday of that week, complete with the requisite displays of teenage horniness and there’s only so many couples in nooks, crannies and corners sucking face that someone with such sensitive eyes, ears and nose can take, especially because some couples reeked of sex.

_No matter how hard you try to hide it, tigrians can always tell when you’ve been sneaking off somewhere for nooky._

However, once past Valentine’s Day and once Harry and Ron were done with the films and the books, the Quartet reconvened in Peter’s room after dinner, where Hermione began explaining her complaints about the “characterisations” of her.

‘I’m not really that much of a swot, am I?’ Hermione asked the others.

‘No, you’re not as bad as Jo has written you,’ answered Peter.

‘Still, it couldn’t hurt to loosen up a little,’ said Ron, hoping to encourage her to relax a bit.

Hermione took a deep breath, as if she was gathering her courage, and surprised her companions.

‘You know what, you guys are my best friends,’ she started. ‘So, you can call me “My”. It’s what my family calls me at home anyway.’

The three boys smiled at this and agreed that they wouldn’t allow others to call her “My” unless she was ok with it. However, Hermione wasn’t done with her complaints.

‘Anyway, as far as the films go, Emma Watson to play “me”, are they serious?’ she went on. ‘She doesn’t have the right teeth, hair, or accent to play “me”. I mean, haven’t you noticed the very slight northern accent in my voice? I don’t sound like Emma Watson and I don’t have any freckles.’

Peter held up his hands. ‘Ok, Ok. I didn’t have any input. I’m not even included,’ He pointed out.

‘Daniel Radcliffe has the wrong eye colour, mine are green, not blue,’ commented Harry. ‘And the wrong colour hair, mine’s black, not brown.’

Ron decided to chime in at this point.

‘I’ve got blue eyes and freckles and Rupert Grint doesn’t, he sounds very slightly west country like me though,’ he stated. ‘And the girl that played Ginny, Bonnie Wright, again blue eyes instead of brown.’

‘Right, I can see a pattern here,’ said Peter, intervening before this turned into just ripping into the actors. ‘None of you like the way “you” are portrayed in the films.’

‘Or the books!’ the other three said at once.

‘Or the fact that you’re not included at all,’ Hermione added, to the agreement of the other two. ‘And neither is my brother.’

‘Cain Blackthorne doesn’t get a mention as well,’ Peter pointed out. ‘I wonder why?’

They tossed this topic around for a while but eventually agreed that they had no idea what events were more likely to occur than others in the books and films. They also agreed that Jo’s visions had either been edited as she turned them into the books, or she hadn’t actually been to Hogwarts herself due to the geographical omissions and the lack of description about the fact that the subjects were handled by a full teaching department with at least three or four staff each. Peter had discovered, by asking Headmaster Dumbledore, that Harry’s class group was being deliberately allocated to the department heads, basically because they were pulling rank to make sure they would be teaching _The Boy Who Lived_. The reasons why Cain Blackthorne and the people he experimented on were excluded were not clear and they’d just be guessing at this point. Hermione was still stung by the fact that her siblings weren’t included.

‘I can’t understand why she didn’t include my brother,’ she explained. ‘David was snatched but he was found and brought home before anything could happen, I mean, he is a muggle, but it still doesn’t explain why he isn’t in this?’

‘Possibly because he was abducted by Blackthorne’s gang, even if he wasn’t experimented on,’ Peter theorised.

None of the group was very happy about the omissions, but they agreed to talk about it later.

### *~*~*

Harry had been getting progressively more nervous as the match against Hufflepuff drew nearer, Professor Snape had been sinking to an even nastier level of going after Harry in potions class. Because of this, Harry wondered whether Snape knew that they had found out about Nicolas Flamel and the Philosopher’s Stone, and he occasionally got this awful feeling that Snape could read minds.

Hermione, Ron and Peter wished Harry good luck before the match, although Harry had the awful feeling that they were considering the possibility of him not coming back alive as they did so. The remaining trio found Neville in the stands and settled in next to him, although Neville wondered why they were so grim-faced and why Ron and Hermione had their wands with them, Peter always had his wands with him. What both Harry and Neville didn’t know was that after seeing the results of Malfoy’s Leg-Locker Curse used against Neville; Hermione, Ron and Peter had been practising it secretly, so they could use it against Snape or anyone else who tried to interfere with the match, should they try to hurt Harry.

The group spotted Headmaster Dumbledore amongst the crowd and theorised this his presence was what seemed to be making Snape so angry.

Then Malfoy decided to poke Ron in the back of the head.

‘Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn’t see you there,’ Draco said, not sounding or acting very remorseful as he turned to Crabbe and Goyle, looking very pleased with himself.

‘Yeah… right…’ said Peter, drawing out the I in right rather sarcastically.

‘One wonders how long Potter will stay on his broom this time,’ Draco went on. ‘Anyone want to bet on it? Eh, Weasley?’

‘I’d take a bet on how long before I shove your wand up where the sun don’t shine, Malfoy,’ Peter replied, to the quiet sniggers of Ron and Neville. Hermione wasn’t really paying attention.

Malfoy decided to shut up for a while, which left the four Gryffindors to watch Harry’s search for the Snitch in peace. But Draco Malfoy couldn’t resist trying to stir up trouble.

‘Hey Crabbe, you know how I think the Gryffindor team chooses its players?’ he said, much louder than necessary. ‘It’s people they feel sorry for —’

‘Well, it certainly makes a change from Slytherin’s criteria,’ Said Peter, as he loudly cut across Malfoy. ‘You know, money, family connections, inbreeding and blood status. Instead of actual talent and ability.’

Peter could tell Malfoy was very annoyed by this statement, but Draco pressed on anyway.

‘Longbottom, you should join the team, after all, everyone feels sorry for your lack of brains.’

‘I’m worth at least twelve of you, Malfoy,’ Stammered Neville, his face red. Ron agreed with Neville, but Malfoy and his goons just laughed.

‘Longbottom, if brains were gold you would be poorer than Weasley here, and that is saying something,’ Malfoy declared haughtily.

‘It’s such a pity that with all that gold you couldn’t buy yourself a brain then, isn’t it Draco?’ said Peter, with a slight smirk. ‘But then it’s not surprising, so few honest and reputable shops would take your family’s dirty, dark arts supporting money.’

Malfoy, unused to Gryffindors giving back as good as they got, snapped and made to lunge at Peter, forgetting that his target would hear him shifting around before he went for him. As such, Malfoy only had time to get to his feet before Peter had spun around, wand drawn and pointing at him, wearing a dark scowl.

‘Sit! Down!’ growled Peter, Malfoy did as he was told. ‘If you can’t be civil or shut up then sod off before you embarrass yourself, Malfoy!’

At that point Hermione called their attention back to the pitch, as Harry was now in a rather spectacular steep dive, heading for Professor Snape. Malfoy chose this moment to insult both Ron and Neville again, this time Ron’s patience and tolerance snapped, and he dived on Malfoy with Neville wading in behind against both Crabbe and Goyle. Peter hadn’t noticed the scuffle begin until several seconds in, and when he did, he was fuming.

‘OI! THAT’S ENOUGH!’ he roared, brandishing both his wands, wearing a furious expression with a rather dangerous look in his eyes. The combatants disentangled themselves from one another.

He pointed at Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. ‘You three, disappear. NOW!’ he barked.

Malfoy and his goons left very quickly, not wanting to be on the receiving end of a tigrian’s temper. Whilst the boys were occupied with all this Hermione was firmly concentrating on the action out on the pitch, where Harry had dived straight past Snape to catch the Snitch and end the game. She was wondering where the boys were as she celebrated with Parvati Patil before she turned around to see Peter hauling Ron off by the collar whilst carrying an unconscious Neville in a fireman’s lift, she hurried to catch up with them.

‘What did I miss, PD?’ she asked.

‘These two took the bait and got into a fight with Malfoy and his goons, My,’ answered Peter, a little grumpily.

‘He tried to have a go at you too!’ cried Ron, though a nosebleed.

‘Yes, but I told him where to get off, instead of wrestling him to the floor,’ replied Peter.

They stopped on the grass to celebrate a little with Harry before he disappeared in the direction of the broom shed to stow his Nimbus 2000 away properly. Whilst Harry went to the broom shed, Peter carried Neville and frogmarched Ron up to the Hospital Wing for Madam Pomfrey to check over.

‘At least it’s not you requiring my attention this time,’ She told Peter, as she got to work on Ron, then Neville.

Hermione, Peter and Ron were waiting in the entrance hall when Harry came back in. After wondering aloud where he’d been and telling him there was a post-match party going on up in the common room, Harry said he had something very important to tell them. They made for Peter’s dorm, putting in a brief appearance at the party in the common room and grabbing a few snacks and drinks on the way through.

Once upstairs Harry did indeed have a very interesting story to tell.


	8. Chapter Eight: Dragons and Detentions.

‘I saw Snape walking off into the forest, so I followed him on my broom,’ said Harry, as he began his explanation of where he’d been and what he’d seen. ‘He went to meet with Professor Quirrell, he said he chose that spot because students aren’t supposed to know about the Philosopher’s Stone.’

‘Makes sense,’ said Peter.

‘Go on, Harry.’ Encouraged Hermione, shooting Peter a dark look.

‘Snape asked Quirrell if he had worked out how to get past that dog and said that Quirrell wouldn’t want him as an enemy,’ continued Harry. ‘Snape said something about Quirrell’s hocus pocus, whatever that means, then told him that they were going to meet again sometime and told Quirrell to think carefully about where his loyalties lie.’

Peter thought for a moment.

‘So, what do we know? Fluffy is guarding the Philosopher’s Stone. There is a method by which you could get past Fluffy. Snape is pressing Quirrell about getting past Fluffy. Snape wants to know where Quirrell’s loyalties lie,’ he listed.

‘Snape could either be trying to force Quirrell into helping him or warning Quirrell that he knows that Quirrell is going to try to steal the stone.’ Harry theorised. ‘But I think Snape is the most likely person to try and steal the stone.’

Peter shrugged, conceding the point.

‘So, if we’re right, the stone is only safe for as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape.’ Hermione stated with some alarm.

‘Quirrell won’t last beyond next Tuesday.’ Ron said pessimistically.

### *~*~*

Based on their current theory, Quirrell must have been braver and more resilient than they’d originally thought, even if he was looking paler and thinner as the weeks went by. But it appeared that he hadn’t cracked just yet.

They had taken to listening for Fluffy through the door every time they passed the door to the third-floor corridor, whether by themselves or in a group. Peter was able to hear Fluffy growling away through the door, without pressing his ear against the timbers, so the group would simply ask him if he could hear Fluffy when any of them were with him, otherwise, they had to press their ear against the door. Harry and Ron gave Professor Quirrell quiet encouragement and began defending him to those who laughed at the Professor’s stutter.

At the same time, Hermione was wrestling with her powerful compulsion to draw up an exam revision timetable ten weeks out, that strong and impressive brain of hers telling her to get properly organised, reminding her that she places great value in her education. Harry and Ron were not very interested in revising for exams right now, they also reacted badly to Hermione nagging them about it. Peter was more understanding of Hermione’s motivations and had a few serious conversations about it, this ended up conveying to Hermione that Peter took exams just as seriously, but that he studies in a way that works better for him. Whilst Hermione respected that and left Peter alone about exam revision, Peter was also on at Harry and Ron to work out the best way for each of them to revise and to get started slowly and build up the load more gradually. The rest of the Quartet became more receptive to Peter’s strategy of time management and working on things in shorter bursts to stay mentally stimulated, as the teachers heaped more work onto them. Just before the Easter Holidays, Peter had to rather forcefully at times remind Hermione that she needed to give her brain a break otherwise she’d drive herself nuts, before he left to spend some time with his family back home. Harry, Hermione and Ron didn’t make an issue out of his leaving, they understood he needed to stay connected to his home on the other side of the world.

Peter relaxed a little at home, he still had to go to school, but he got to see his Melbourne Demons play in the AFL. He caught up with his family and his friends, even though he kept up with his Hogwarts and Australian primary school course loads. The other three sent him joint letters every two days about what was going on, this was how he’d found out about Hagrid’s dragon egg, and that Hagrid had told them that the Philosopher’s Stone was protected by enchantments made by Professors Sprout, Flitwick, McGonagall, Quirrell and Snape as well as Headmaster Dumbledore, in addition to Fluffy.

It turned out that Hagrid had won the Norwegian Ridgeback egg off a bloke down the pub.

_‘I bought it off a bloke down the pub, officer.’ Yeah, ‘cause that always ends well…_ thought Peter, as he read the letter detailing that conversation.

The letters had also detailed how Hermione had “graciously” shared her exam anxiety with the boys by making them revision timetables as well, this was not well received.

### *~*~*

Peter had gotten back to the castle very late on the night before the last day of the Easter Holidays, shortly before dawn the next morning, Peter made his way out of Gryffindor Tower and headed down to one of the few spots in the open air that faces east towards the rising sun. Filch spotted him and was about to approach and haul him off to Professor McGonagall for being out of bed when he noticed what the young tigrian had set down on the railing in front of him. Peter had taken several glass objects out of a box he had been carrying, each one with a three-dimensional design etched into the heart of the glass with a completely smooth outside surface. The first one was a square plaque which carried a rising sun badge under which the words _ANZAC Day, 1915 – 2003, Lest We Forget_, the next two each had a name and dates under a design where a poppy sat over the crossed sprigs of both wattle and rosemary. The last piece was a glass ball sat on a small brass monkey, ten centimetres in diameter with a flame design in the heart of the glass.

Professor McGonagall came past and noticed Filch watching her tigrian student, she told the caretaker that she would take it from here, and the caretaker left muttering about how it felt just a little disrespectful to punish a student who was doing something like this, which clearly looked like paying respect to the dead. Professor McGonagall watched as Peter set the ball with the flame inside it to glow gently as he waited for the dawn and decided to step up to stand beside her student. Peter heard her step closer, she was clearly wondering what he was doing.

He began to speak in a wavering whisper as the sky brightened in the light of the dawn.

_‘They went with songs to the battle, they were young._

_Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow._

_They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,_

_They fell with their faces to the foe._

_They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:_

_Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn._

_At the going down of the sun and in the morning,_

_We will remember them.’_

His Head of House whispered the last line with him, having recognised the Ode of Remembrance, and stood with him in silence for a solemn two-minute vigil. Both the tigrian and the Professor uttered the words _‘Lest We Forget’_ at the conclusion of those two-minutes before McGonagall turned and asked her student something rather delicate.

‘Who were the two people whose names you have here, Mr Linnell?’ she asked quietly.

‘They were Australian soldiers deployed in East Timor, who when a wand fight started in a village stepped in to try and protect innocent lives.’ He explained. ‘The fight was started by Cain Blackthorne and his gang who were on the run from authorities at the time. Those two were killed during the fight, and the incident was kept quiet.’

Professor McGonagall did not ask any more questions and left her student to his thoughts.

Later at breakfast, Peter was sat at the table amongst his three closest friends struggling to keep the boys from getting too annoyed by Hermione’s preferred study habits, when Hedwig dropped a note from Hagrid in Harry’s lap. It contained only two words: _It’s hatching._

Ron, of course, wanted to go straight down to Hagrid’s, Hermione didn’t like that idea and began to argue with Ron, before Harry shushed them pointing out that Malfoy was nearby and was trying, and failing, to be subtle about eavesdropping on them. Harry and Peter shared a look, after seeing Malfoy’s expression.

_That can’t be good._

Ron and Hermione continued to argue all the way down to the greenhouses before Herbology, the result of which was Hermione agreeing to go across to Hagrid’s at the morning break between classes. At the sound of the bell, the four of them moved as fast as they could from the greenhouses to Hagrid’s hoping they hadn’t missed the hatching.

By the time they got there the dragonling had only managed to put cracks in the eggshell, it still hadn’t made enough of them to escape its ovoid prison but was frantically working on it. Everyone inside Hagrid’s hut was crowded ‘round the table watching the egg intently when with a final loud scraping noise, the egg burst open and the dragonling flopped out onto the tabletop. The young creature, although not the most attractive, was curious about its surroundings as it rested a little after hatching, a sneeze produced sparks, and it nipped at Hagrid’s fingers.

The good mood inside was spoilt by Hagrid spotting a face through a gap in the curtains, both Peter and Harry bolted to the door, to see the retreating form of Draco Malfoy.

‘Well, bollocks.’

### *~*~*

Over the following week, Malfoy had taken to smirking, in a rather self-satisfied manner, at Harry, Hermione and Ron. The only reason Peter was exempt was simply every time Malfoy looked over at him, he was wearing a rather dark scowl, occasionally with an arched eyebrow, which usually made Malfoy’s smirk falter. The group went down to see Hagrid once again and learned that the dragon had been named Norbert. A short argument occurred about what to do with Norbert considering Hagrid couldn’t keep him for much longer when Harry came up with the answer, Ron’s brother Charlie. Charlie and his colleagues would be able to look after Norbert, up until the point where he could be released into the wild. Hagrid reluctantly agreed to this plan.

Another week meandered by, until on Wednesday night two things happened, first, Norbert bit Ron whilst he was helping feed the dragon, and second, Hedwig arrived with Charlie’s answer which told them what to do to get Norbert away safely. Harry reasoned that the Invisibility Cloak should be big enough for two of them with Norbert, and they made a plan. Said plan immediately had a spanner thrown into its works the next morning, when Harry discovered Ron’s hand was now very badly swollen around the bite. Harry was torn over what to do and was hoping it would go down on its own, until that afternoon when Peter had almost forced his way into Harry and Ron’s dorm and proceeded to identify that the bite wound had venom in it and Ron would have to go to the hospital wing. Harry had held back on his tigrian friend, if only because he wasn’t sure if Madam Pomfrey would get all of them in trouble. But Peter understood his friend’s dilemma and told Harry that he was sure that Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t rat on them, before he immobilised then levitated Ron up to the hospital wing, saying that the less Ron moved, the less the venom would spread.

Ron wasn’t doing much better when Harry, Hermione and Peter went up to see him at the end of the day. The wound was only just starting out on its required time to heal, but that wasn’t what had upset Ron, apparently, Malfoy had appeared, threatened to dob them in and “borrowed” the book that Ron had stashed Charlie’s letter in. Malfoy now knew when to try and catch them out, and there was nothing they could do to change it.

They were ushered out of the hospital wing by Madam Pomfrey and they decided to go down to tell Hagrid the plan for tonight, whilst trying to come up with a way of getting around the Malfoy problem. Norbert was apparently not up to seeing visitors at the moment, but Peter, Harry and Hermione all shared a look, as the dragon banged its tail against the wall, shaking the windows.

_I just hope this works and we don’t get shopped._

### *~*~*

Later that night Harry, Hermione and Peter managed to sneak out of the castle under the Invisibility Cloak, after being held up by Peeves playing tennis against the wall of the entrance hall. They got to Hagrid’s just after Norbert had gotten settled down into his crate, and then another problem reared its head after they’d gotten the cloak over the crate, Harry and Hermione. Harry and Hermione were straining mightily to lift the crate and Peter was concerned that one or both of them would put their back out. So, with a little rearranging of the Cloak, Peter got under it and was able to take a good hold of the crate and help his friends heft the bloody thing up to the top of the Astronomy Tower after Hagrid had said his teary goodbye to Norbert.

The three of them heaved and strained their way into the castle and then up several flights of steps, although Harry tried to use shortcuts to ease the burden on them without much success. They’d made it to the corridor at the bottom of the tower where their destination lay when Peter’s ear twitched at the same time as Harry spotted two dark outlines that seemed to be grappling with one another. It turned out to be Professor McGonagall who was marching Draco Malfoy down the corridor by the ear, who then also took twenty points off Slytherin and gave him detention. They managed to get to the top of the tower, before finally throwing off the Cloak out in the open air to wait for Charlie’s friends.

They were laughing about Malfoy’s predicament with Professor McGonagall, with Hermione suggesting that she was so happy she could start singing when Charlie’s friends arrived to pick up Norbert. They were all very chipper and friendly, even if they were a little taken aback by Peter’s appearance and showed the group the harness, they’d rigged between their brooms to carry Norbert away with them.

After Charlie’s friends had Norbert secured and had headed off towards Romania, the three of them made to head back to Gryffindor Tower, when at the bottom of the stairs from the Astronomy Tower they ran straight into Filch, looking like the cat who’d got the cream. Peter let out a rather loud, short and sharp feline hiss, which caused all the others to jump in surprise. When Mrs Norris appeared on Filch’s shoulder, Harry and Hermione understood what he was doing, he was trying to get Filch to focus all his attention on them instead of what they were doing there. He’d realised that they’d left the Invisibility Cloak on top of the tower and was trying to pull Filch’s attention away from the top of the tower and protect the Cloak from being found by Filch, which would mean that Harry would never get it back.

The three of them were marched down to Professor McGonagall’s study on the first floor and were sat down outside to await their “doom” in silence. Hermione was struggling to contain her sense of impending doom, whilst Harry was thinking of a way to wriggle out of this without much success. Peter was relatively calm in comparison, knowing they were probably caught bang to rights and the truth may be their only salvation with Professor McGonagall. However, the situation got worse before it got better as their Head of House appeared dragging Neville towards her office. Neville blurted out how he’d tried to find the three of them, to warn them that Malfoy was skulking around trying to catch them with a dragon. Harry and Peter were both shaking their heads and gesturing violently to get Neville to stop talking, unfortunately, not before Professor McGonagall had noticed both what had been said and what Harry and Peter had been signalling.

‘I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr Filch says you were up the astronomy tower. It’s one o’clock in the morning. _Explain yourselves at once!_’ McGonagall demanded.

None of them said anything, even Hermione said nothing, which was unusual for her, she didn’t normally refuse to answer a teacher’s question. Peter had made up his mind that, if he was asked a direct question about any part of tonight, he would have to answer honestly, feeling that lying was more likely to get them in a bigger fix than they were already in.

Professor McGonagall explained her theory about Harry, Hermione and Peter feeding Malfoy “some cock and bull story about a dragon” to get him into trouble and came very close to accusing them of trying to dupe Neville into this as well. McGonagall admonished all four students in her office, Hermione and Peter for not “having more sense”, Harry and Peter because she thought “Gryffindor meant more to you than this”, and Neville because “nothing gives you the right to wander the halls after curfew”. All of them received detention and lost Gryffindor fifty points each, a total of two hundred points. They left shortly afterwards.

### *~*~*

The next day brought with it a tectonic shift in public opinion for the four students who had “cost Gryffindor it’s shot a breaking Slytherin’s run of House cups”. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students all turned against them, whilst the Slytherins offered their thanks for helping them to victory. Peter ceased all interaction, aside from what was absolutely necessary, with anyone who demonstrated that they cared more about house points than what really mattered in life and took to stalking through the corridors at a very brisk pace, tail flicking back and forth angrily, growling at anyone who got in his way, especially Slytherins.

He ignored the Gryffindor prefects most of the time unless they were acting on the directions of the staff or enforcing rules, as several them decided to try and lecture him about his responsibilities to his house. Those who really pressed the point received a short and terse response about how if they believed he should have abandoned his friends to pursue house points, they were just snakes hiding in scarlet and gold. Completely sacrificing values and principles in pursuit of raw ambition was something that deeply offended and disgusted him, and he said that, if they could honestly tell him that every other Gryffindor expected him to do that, then Gryffindor stands for nothing and believes in nothing, and he wanted no part of it. Peter also accused any of his housemates who got in his face about this of being “fair weather Gryffindors” who really belong in green and silver, and even began to wear a large World Scout Badge pin on his robes as a way of saying “Scouts have each other’s backs” with its unsaid flipside “Gryffindors apparently don’t”. Professor McGonagall was told of these statements but refused to discipline him further or throw him out of Gryffindor House for steadfastly standing by, and defending, his principles, apparently privately agreeing with him.

Ron stood by Harry and suffered from guilt by association, whilst Hermione and Neville were simply shunned rather than loudly insulted. All of them tried to keep a low profile, not engaging in answering questions in class, and spending time studying up in Peter’s room. Harry wondered if really should stay on the Quidditch team, Oliver Wood wouldn’t hear of him resigning, but he was struggling to find any joy in playing any more. Meanwhile, the group continued to focus on exam revision both out of a need to prepare and to take their minds off their newfound status as pariahs.

About a week before exams, the resolve of the Quartet not to get involved in things they probably shouldn’t was blown apart when Harry told them he’d heard Professor Quirrell talking to someone and it sounded like they were threatening the Defence Professor. Harry went on to tell them that it sounded like Quirrell had caved to the pressure as well.

On hearing this Ron wanted to go snooping again, while Hermione wanted to tell Dumbledore about it. Both Harry and Peter kyboshed these ideas, how would they explain their knowledge of the stone and what might be protecting it, and going off poking around again was likely to get them in even more trouble. At breakfast the following morning, identical notes were delivered to Harry, Hermione, Neville and Peter from Professor McGonagall, telling them that their detention would be at eleven o’clock that night. Peter discovered a second slip of parchment in his envelope which contained another message from his Head of House.

_Hold fast to your values and principles, you are right that Gryffindor must stand for something other than just house points and winning cups._

_The others will come to see this in time. You are strong enough to weather this storm._

_Prof. M. McGonagall. _

Peter looked up to the staff table, finding Professor McGonagall looking towards him. She saw him looking and gave him a small smile, a little encouragement to stay strong and remind the other students in Gryffindor what that crest really stands for. He felt humbled that Professor McGonagall had noticed his troubles and internal conflict during all of this and had sent him this note to tell him that she agreed with his view of what was truly important.

### *~*~*

At eleven that night the four Gryffindors bade Ron farewell and trudged down to the entrance hall, the slow march of the condemned. When they arrived Filch was already waiting with Malfoy, Peter’s face shifted into a very dark scowl upon seeing this particular green and silver snake.

_You are the reason for us getting caught, you overly entitled little mincing bastard,_ thought Peter, as he filed it away for future reference.

What he would do with this was unclear, but he knew that he wasn’t going to let Draco wriggle out of recognising his actions.

_Just because you think we shouldn’t be here. You’re just a poncy little fuckwit._

Peter managed to restrain his urge to rip Malfoy’s head off and focus on following Filch to whatever they would be doing.

_Damn my tigrian temper!_

Peter didn’t pay much attention to what the others were doing around him, he was focused on smashing down the feelings that ended with him wanting to be potentially fatally violent towards Malfoy for his part in this. He was only jolted back to reality by the comments that they would be working with Hagrid and going into the forest, at which point both Neville and Malfoy panicked slightly, Malfoy complaining about werewolves and saying that he couldn’t possibly go in there, Neville quietly worried about making it out alive. Filch shut down Malfoy’s bitching very quickly and firmly saying he should have thought of this before he got himself in trouble.

Filch and Hagrid argued a little before the Caretaker left saying something about coming back at dawn for what was left of the students. Peter couldn’t help but think back to what he’d heard being implied by the Department of Education, Magical Liaison Office officials, which boiled down to ‘Get him killed and Hogwarts is over, permanently.’ Peter had come to know one thing in his short life, having been in such close interaction with Commonwealth and State Government Departments because of the Blackthorne business, which is never, **ever**, play chicken with Australian Government agencies, especially both the Department of Magical Affairs, along with the liaison offices, and the Australian Federal Police, it usually doesn’t end well.

With Filch gone, Draco decided to have another round of griping about how he wasn’t going into the forest, until Hagrid told him, in terms that invited no argument, that he was going in or he was going home with a letter of expulsion, his choice. After Malfoy chose to stay at school and go into the forest, Hagrid told them what they would be doing. They were searching for an injured unicorn, which they may have to put down if they found it still alive. The plan was to split up into two groups to cover more ground, Malfoy wanted Fang with him even after being told of the dog’s cowardice, so Peter and Neville were put with Draco whilst Harry and Hermione would go with Hagrid.

With the groups decided they set off into the forest to look for the injured creature.

_Three students and a dog off on their own in the Forbidden Forest at night. What could possibly go wrong?_

Peter had a bad feeling about this.


	9. Chapter Nine: Unicorns, Threats and Reflections.

Peter was soon walking ten or so paces in front of Malfoy and Neville, trying to leverage his tigrian biology to their advantage, particularly his senses. He could see quite well in the dappled moonlight, once he was away from the light of the lamp Malfoy was holding, his ears and nose picked up on the sounds and smells of the forest all around him, none of which indicated danger right now.

Malfoy was bending Neville’s ear about all the dangerous things in the forest, Peter suspected that was a cover for his own fear and to wind someone up for his own entertainment. Peter heard Draco’s footstep die away as he dropped back just out of sight, Neville’s startled shout told him that Malfoy was about to set him up for a scare. Neville looked around unable to see Malfoy, he turned towards Peter.

‘Where did he go?’ asked Neville, a tinge of panic creeping into his voice.

‘Not sure,’ answered Peter. ‘But it’s not a good idea to be piss farting around out here.’

‘I know what you mean,’ replied Neville.

Peter didn’t spot Malfoy until it was too late to stop him from springing out from behind Neville and grabbing him completely by surprise. In his surprise, Neville shouted and sent up red sparks with his wand before Peter wrestled Malfoy against a tree.

‘What the HELL do you think you’re doing you stupid prat!’ he snarled in Draco’s face.

‘It’s just a joke,’ Malfoy said with a sneer.

‘That wasn’t funny,’ replied Peter hotly. ‘Stuffing around like that out here could get you killed, you berk.’ That wiped the sneer of Malfoy’s face.

‘You alright Neville?’ Peter asked his other companion.

Neville nodded a little shakily. Just then Hagrid crashed through the forest, having come to find them.

‘Wha’ happened?’ he asked the group.

Peter spoke up, ‘This idiot,’ he pointed to Malfoy, ‘decided to creep up on Neville as a “joke”. He scared the bejesus out of Neville here.’

‘Right, let’s get back ter where I left Harry an’ Hermione,’ said Hagrid grumpily.

The three students and Fang followed Hagrid through the forest, until they met up with Harry and Hermione again, who were then filled in on the shenanigans Malfoy had caused.

‘After this idiot’s muckin’ around, we’ll be lucky to catch anythin’ tonight,’ said Hagrid, pointing at Malfoy. ‘Right, we’re switchin’ the groups around. Harry, you go with Peter, Fang and this berk. Neville, you’ll stay with me an’ Hermione.’

Hagrid leaned down to whisper to Harry and Peter, ‘Sorry, but neither of you scare easily and we need ter get this done.’ Both boys nodded.

They set off again, in a tighter formation having told Malfoy to cover the lamp he was carrying, so Peter could use his night vision properly. They had also told Malfoy to shut up and stay close, which he did without complaint.

They carefully ventured deeper into the forest for about half-an-hour, their path becoming more of an animal track as they went, the splotches of silvery blood getting thicker and more numerous. It looked as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain, possibly whilst still being attacked. Harry noticed a clearing ahead and nudged Peter to get his attention, whilst whispering to get Malfoy’s attention.

They stepped tentatively out into the edge of the clearing, when they saw it, the wounded unicorn, its beautiful unblemished white form slumped over on its side, legs splayed out showing that the poor creature had staggered to this spot before collapsing from its injuries. Peter looked closely at the sad sight in front of him and saw no movement coming from the body of the unicorn, indicating no signs of life. The beautiful creature in front of them was dead.

Harry had taken a single step towards the unicorn when a slithering sound made the whole party freeze. A bush on the edge of the clearing twitched, before a hooded figure emerged from the shadows, crawling along the ground as though stalking something. Whatever this thing was it lowered what must have been its head to the open wound on the unicorn’s flank and began to drink its blood. Malfoy screamed and then bolted away, taking Fang with him. The figure turned to face Harry, the unicorn blood having dribbled down its front, before standing to advance on Harry, who was frozen in both fear and pain, as his scar burned.

Peter had backed up a little and now held his wand above his head, pointing straight up.

‘_Alba Excandescunto!_’ he cried.

With a sound like fireworks being shot off, three bright bursts of white light shot high into the sky, each with a loud squeal before they shattered into a shower of loudly crackling white sparks with a loud pop. He knew Hagrid would have to have seen and heard that and be heading this way, so he levelled his wand at the hooded figure, fully prepared to use the same spell to drive it back from Harry.

He didn’t need to, as shortly afterwards a centaur thundered into the clearing driving the figure off back into the forest. The handsome creature, with platinum blond hair and palomino fur, walked over to Harry with a concerned look on his face. Peter stepped down from his vantage point, the centaur turned in surprise to find the young tigrian in the clearing with him and Harry. Harry was still disoriented having slumped to his knees.

‘You are one of the survivors of Blackthorne’s madness,’ said the centaur.

‘I am tigrian, yes,’ replied Peter. ‘My name is Peter Linnell.’

‘I am Firenze,’ the centaur replied shaking Peter’s hand.

‘Someone once told me Florence was the cradle of the Renaissance,’ said Peter.

‘Ah, yes,’ replied Firenze. ‘The movement that brought light back into a darkened world.’

‘Perhaps someone was giving hints about your destiny,’ Peter said gently.

‘Perhaps,’ Firenze said with a slight smile.

Harry’s head had cleared by that point and he was looking around wondering what had happened, and who that hooded figure was. Firenze didn’t answer the question about who they had seen drinking the unicorn blood, but he was concerned about the two students being so far from Hagrid whilst in the forest and bade them onto his back, so they could move more quickly.

But before they could get going, two more centaurs appeared and began to argue with Firenze about him letting Peter and Harry climb up on his back and cautioning him against going against the predictions of the heavens. However, Peter took exception to being called a human by the centaur who would be identified to him as Bane, the other being Ronan.

‘I am not a human and I find that remark very rude and offensive,’ said Peter, scowling.

‘What are you then?’ asked Bane.

‘Tigrian,’ came the answer.

At this both newcomers were startled, whispers passing between them about whether a survivor of Cain Blackthorne’s madness could really in their midst. They wondered whether this was some kind of omen and weren’t sure if it was a good or bad one. Firenze to his credit decided to leave before Bane could further insult a member of a species the world has only begun to understand and set off through the forest to find Hagrid.

During the ride, Firenze helped Harry reason out what was going on.

The first point was, what is unicorn blood used for? The answer was not known to the two students as they had only come across the horn and tail hair in potions, but the truth was that unicorn blood will extend life at the cost of having to endure a powerful curse. The second point was, knowing this, who would be desperate enough to kill a unicorn, even to gain a small extension of life? The answer to that was simple, Lord Voldemort. And finally, the third point, why would Voldemort take such a risk on a temporary measure? Answer, the Dark Lord wants the Philosopher’s Stone for the Elixir of Life to regain his body. However, in Blackthorne’s notes, he discussed something which Peter thought was important to ask Firenze about.

‘Would the curse be negated if the unicorn gave its blood willingly?’ he asked.

Firenze thought for a moment. ‘Even the act of injuring such a pure and innocent creature, no matter how small, may bring a curse, even if it’s only slight in its effects.’

Peter left that discussion alone after that answer, promising to take Harry through what Blackthorne had written later.

Soon enough they ran into Hermione and Hagrid and climbed down from Firenze’s back, Harry then told Hagrid where to find the unicorn. The centaur declared that they were now safe, having been returned to Hagrid, wished them well and departed, hoping that the planets had been read incorrectly.

### *~*~*

Ron had decided to wait for his friends up in Peter’s room but had fallen asleep in the low light of the room. He woke with a shout about Quidditch fouls when Harry poked and shook him awake but was quickly alert and ready to hear what had gone on in the forest from Harry, Hermione and Peter. As they explained what had gone on, including Hagrid, Harry and Hermione running into Bane and Ronan and getting non-answers to their questions about what was going on with the unicorn, Peter pulled out the despatch box again and began to go through it looking for the references to unicorn blood.

Harry was the only member of the group who was unable to sit down, so he paced the carpet in front of the fire, still shaking from his encounter in the forest. As he went back and forth, he began to theorise about Professor Snape wanting the stone to give to Voldemort. Both Ron and Hermione were rather frightened by the description of the events and asked Harry to stop saying Voldemort’s name.

Peter in the meantime, had found what he was looking for and pulled out the papers as he began to explain what he had found.

‘Blackthorne had a theory, that if you took blood from a unicorn without killing it you could avoid the curse,’ he began. ‘The problem is that you have to restore the unicorn to the exact state of good health it enjoyed before you took some of its blood. The other theory is that unicorns may be “harvested” for useful magical materials if they die naturally, the reasoning being that nature has no moral centre and would make use of the body anyway.’

‘Both of those make sense,’ commented Hermione.

‘They do, but the first is almost impossible to achieve, whilst the second requires you to track a heard almost constantly as unicorns live long lives,’ explained Peter.

By the time they finished, and the others left Peter’s room to go to bed, the sun was threatening to emerge from the horizon.

### *~*~*

At breakfast the following Saturday, Peter received a note from Headmaster Dumbledore asking him to come and see him in the Headmaster’s Office after breakfast. Peter was apprehensive about this meeting, and his friends weren’t sure what to make of it either.

‘What could he want to see me about?’ he asked the group.

‘No idea,’ shrugged Hermione.

‘Maybe he’ll give you a proper kick in the bum,’ interjected Dean Thomas.

‘Yeah, would serve you right for losing us all those points,’ added Seamus.

‘If house points are all you care about, you’ve led very sheltered lives,’ growled Peter.

At this, Peter stood from the table and left the Great Hall for his appointment. Peter had heard the rumours that some students’ families were putting pressure on Dumbledore to explain who and what Peter is. They were apparently very concerned about the descriptions they were getting from their children about this strange student covered in fur, who looked a little like a white tiger.

His final comment to Seamus and Dean before leaving was more born of the continuing reports of death threats and various other threatening letters and other communications that the Australian Federal Police was intercepting, reviewing, investigating, and summarising. He was receiving a distilled summary of the threats and malicious communications once a week, as they continued to flood in at a similar level to when his case was first publicised when he was just three years old. And thus, much of the innocence and naivety he had possessed early in his life was well and truly gone by his eighth birthday, when he was shown that there were people in the world who had never met him but wanted to torture and kill him, going right back to his third year of life. A sheltered existence was very appealing to him right now, perhaps he could’ve brought himself to care about house points.

He walked briskly to the Headmaster’s Office, hoping to get this over with fairly promptly as he knew that the complaints would likely have a racist or some other prejudicial bent to them and was hoping to get away from that kind of thing as soon as possible.

He walked up the appointed gargoyle on the third floor and told it he was there for his appointment with to Headmaster, it nodded before stepping aside to admit him.

As he stepped onto the spiral staircase, which began to function like an escalator, he began to wonder if he was going to start getting death threats from people in Britain as well as Australia.

_That would make the AFP Team’s job harder, regarding letters and things._

He rode the staircase up to the top of its run before coming to a stop in front of a large, solid timber door. He knocked and waited to be called through, all his grandparents had played a part in teaching him this basic respect of other people’s space, along with his own experiences.

‘Do come in, Mr Linnell,’ called Headmaster Dumbledore.

‘Good morning, Headmaster,’ said Peter, as he politely greeted his Headmaster.

‘Yes, I do believe it is a rather lovely morning,’ replied Dumbledore. The Headmaster seemed to be thinking of several things at once and was silent for a few moments. Peter decided to try to get back to what he was there for.

‘Umm… so, I don’t want to be rude…’ Peter began.

_To hell with my manners._

Dumbledore smiled slightly as his student spoke, eyes twinkling.

‘But, what did you want to talk to me about, Sir?’ Peter asked.

Dumbledore sat and considered a moment.

‘I think you should sit down before I go on,’ He directed his student gently.

Peter sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk and waited for his Headmaster to go on.

‘Some of the parents of students at this school, and other “interested” parties,’ as he said this Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, ‘have registered their concern with me about your continued presence here.’

‘If you’ll excuse my bluntness, sir?’ Peter asked, the response to which was a couple of fingers lifting off the desk and a very slight nod with an arched brow. So, he went on, ‘It sounds to me like the regular crowd of stickybeaks wanting to climb into anyone who’s different from what they think is “normal and acceptable”.’

‘Stickybeak, Mr Linnell?’ asked Dumbledore.

‘Someone who sticks their beak…’ at this Peter tapped his nose, ‘…where it doesn’t belong.’

‘Ah, most appropriate for some of these people,’ the Headmaster commented with that mischievous glint in his eye.

‘So, if it’s not too blunt a question,’ Peter began, ‘how many of these people are just clutching their pearls and saying, _“Won’t somebody **please** think of the children!”_?’

Dumbledore chuckled at his tigrian student’s way with rather sharp, direct and blunt language about this, which he was beginning to suspect was due to having dealt with situations like this since he was very small.

‘Well, if put it like that, quite a few,’ answered Dumbledore. ‘Lemon Drop?’

‘No, thank you, sir,’ replied Peter. ‘Dark chocolate with ginger is more my thing, sir.’

‘Interesting tastes you have,’ commented the Headmaster. ‘Most of the letters are written by someone wondering how you are not considered a magical creature, and therefore under the control of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.’

‘That’s easy,’ replied Peter. ‘I was born human and changed into a species that didn’t exist before against my will.’

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows; he had not expected the comment that the tigrian species did not previously exist.

Peter went on, ‘That would deal with the comparison to werewolves that they would like to make.’

‘Indeed. But I’m not sure that the Minister for Magic will see it that way,’ Dumbledore stated.

Peter’s eyebrow arched, ‘But, does the Minister really want to explain why he sees it that way to two Prime Ministers?’

‘You seem very sure that such a scenario would not end well for the Minister,’ the Headmaster commented, eyes twinkling.

‘John Howard and Tony Blair have an official agreement that Cornelius Fudge must respect,’ The young tigrian said firmly. ‘Besides, if Fudge doesn’t, then “the Ministry of Magic is complicit in the crimes of Cain Blackthorne and his associates, and will be dealt with appropriately”, and all that means is a political disaster for Fudge, the Minister who brought the end of the Ministry.’

Dumbledore was intrigued, ‘You think it would come to that, Peter?’

The tigrian student thought a little, ‘That whole business was a massive story and scandal in the muggle world, so yes. The pack was baying for blood then, and they would do that now.’

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair at this and seemed to be thinking about what his student had told him. It sounded like this was a decision that the two muggle governments involved had already made and then bound the Ministry to it, with the ever-present threat of the Sword of Damocles coming crashing down on the whole organisation if they didn’t toe the line. Minister Cornelius Fudge was for all intents and purposes thoroughly “boxed in” to accepting the present situation, even with the flood of complaints that some parents found the status quo intolerable. The problem was that the Minister was basically forced to act to deal with the issue being raised, simply because of the sheer number of complaints. But, if he acted against the agreement, the Ministry was finished. And he couldn’t have Peter thrown out of Hogwarts either.

‘It seems that the Minister is in a real fix,’ Said Dumbledore thoughtfully. ‘He has asked to meet with both of us about this problem.’

‘He’s already on his way isn’t he, sir?’ asked Peter.

‘Indeed, he is. However, he is running a little late.’

Just after this was said, the door to the office burst open to reveal Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, who looked like he was under serious pressure from all sides right now. With the Minister came two pairs of very serious looking officials, one pair Peter recognised from Australia House in London. Each pair was carrying a large, ornately framed mirror, the first of which bore an intricate carving of the Coat of Arms of the Commonwealth of Australia at the centre line of the top of the frame, the second had the version of the Coat of Arms used by Her Majesty’s Government of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland in Scotland.

_And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, please take your seats to see the fun and games of how one forces a very senior politician into a straitjacket, puts lead weights on his ankles and pushes him out of the boat,_ Peter thought to himself.

‘Good morning, Cornelius. What is all this in aid of?’ the Headmaster asked, gesturing to the mirrors.

‘Good morning, Albus, Mr Linnell,’ Fudge began.

Peter nodded as spoke, ‘Minister.’

Fudge went on, ‘The mirrors are necessary because we are to be conferencing with Prime Ministers Blair and Howard.’

‘Ah.’ Was all the Headmaster said, but his eyes betrayed the very slight tinges of amusement he was feeling at that moment. The officials fiddled with the mirrors for a couple of minutes before declaring they had everything set up and connected the mirror calls.

The faces of John Howard and Tony Blair came into focus on their respective mirrors, it looked like both PMs were in the office and wearing suits, even if it was stupid o’clock in Canberra.

‘Hello Tony, Headmaster Dumbledore, Minister Fudge, Mr Linnell,’ Greeted Prime Minister Howard. ‘I understand we’re having some problems with parental complaints.’

‘Good morning gentlemen, I hear that apparently we are dealing with an issue like that,’ Stated Mr Blair.

Fudge had by this time taken a seat and was settling in for a long discussion. Peter just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

The conversation went back and forth over the ground that Peter had always thought it would, but he was asked his opinion in all this. In response to that query, he repeated what he had told his Headmaster to the Minister and Prime Ministers. Which only served to harden the resolve of all the politicians present to get their way, which rapidly became a losing struggle for Fudge given that he was now set against two much more skilled and experienced political leaders, even if they were muggles. Peter had been told politics is a blood sport and seeing exactly what they meant by it up close and in person wasn’t pretty. Dumbledore would have to clean up the blood later.

The very short, sharp, blunt message that Fudge was getting went something like “pull your head in before we knock it off… you’re the Minister, you’re the leader, so start leading… any change from the agreement is not an option… knock this on the head…”. When the Minister for Magic asked how he was going to explain this to the people complaining, he was told very bluntly that “you’re supposed to be a successful politician…” and that he should be able to work out how to explain it by himself.

As it became clear that the group was going around in circles in their discussions, Dumbledore asked if his student could be excused and all the politicians agreed. Peter breathed a sigh of relief that he was finally free of the farce now being played out in the Headmaster’s office, Fudge had now found himself fighting against the declared opinions of all the four people who had been present and losing, badly.

### *~*~*

Peter made his way up to his dorm; his friends saw him come into the common room wearing a rather weary expression and looking a little flat. They decided to follow him up to his room, wondering what had happened to cause this reaction in him.

Peter had just slumped into his preferred armchair when Harry knocked on his door. He called for them to come in and was entirely unsurprised when Ron and Hermione trooped in behind his black-haired friend. The other three sprawled onto the couches or the rug, awaiting his explanation of what had happened.

Peter relayed to his friends what had gone on in the Headmaster’s office, particularly between the Minister and the two Prime Ministers. Hermione winced at the explanation of the amount of pressure being exerted upon Fudge by Blair and Howard.

‘It really puts me off politics altogether,’ she said. ‘Just thinking about how Fudge was having his arm twisted like that, it’s horrible.’

‘That’s how it has to be done at a face-to-face level between senior politicians sometimes,’ Peter replied. ‘Not many people have the stomach for it, and it can get pretty nasty at times.’

‘Sounds like Fudge was being beaten up rather than argued with,’ commented Ron.

Peter had to agree with that assessment, Blair and Howard did seem like they had set this up as an ambush against Fudge, for reasons that he personally didn’t want to know.

Harry, however, was more concerned with the comment that was made about death threats on the way through.

‘What do you mean you’ve been getting death threats for as long as you can remember?!’ He cried, a little incredulous at the casual attitude his friend had taken with this.

Ron and Hermione both gaped at their tigrian friend in shock.

‘Wait, WHAT?!’ they shouted together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes life gets in the way of writing and posting these stories... The break between posting chapters was unplanned, but hopefully, I'm back on a somewhat regular schedule. Thanks for reading this far, there's still more to come.


	10. Chapter Ten: Poison Pens and Realisations.

‘OW! Calm down, that hurt,’ cried Peter, clutching his ears.

The sudden change in pitch and volume when Ron and Hermione had shouted their surprise at the revelation of the death threats Peter has been getting for a while now, had been rather painful for the young tigrian, whose ears were now throbbing in protest at the sudden outburst.

‘It’s always just some berk with an axe to grind,’ Peter explained. ‘The AFP team hasn’t come across anything that could be a genuine risk, yet.’

‘That’s still not an excuse to take it lightly!’ scoffed Hermione.

‘I’m not taking it lightly,’ replied Peter. ‘But, until there is a good reason to think someone might actually try to come after me, what’s the point in getting worked up about it?’

‘I know the feeling,’ commented Harry quietly.

‘But you have got someone coming after you, Harry,’ Stated Ron.

_I’ll bet you’re fun at parties,_ thought Peter.

‘Yes, but it’s no use worrying about it until it happens,’ Harry started. ‘Being paranoid only makes you jump at shadows.’

‘True, but you still need to pay attention to it,’ argued Hermione.

‘Keeping an eye on it and worrying about it are two different things, My,’ said Peter.

Hermione sighed, ‘Honestly, I just don’t want you ignoring it, that’s all,’ she said with a strong helping of exasperation.

‘I’m not ignoring it, I get a summary of the poison pen letters and other hate mail each week,’ came Peter’s reply. ‘I read the summary carefully, and if I’m not advised to worry about anything this week, I don’t.’

‘Just like that?’ asked Hermione with a slightly accusatory tone.

‘Yes, I trust the team tasked with sifting through this stuff,’ Peter answered flatly.

He had begun to tire of Hermione’s bad habit of “generously” sharing her level of stress and anxiety with the rest of the group. It really didn’t do much, aside from make the rest of them grumpy all the time and get them rather cross with Hermione’s obsessiveness about exams and serious issues.

_That brain of hers is astonishingly powerful, but she needs to learn to just go with the flow a little more,_ Peter Thought. _Because she’s driving us all ‘round the bend._

He was certain that Hermione wasn’t trying to get up their noses, it just, sort of happened.

‘You’re doing it again,’ Ron said to Hermione.

‘What do mean?’ she asked.

‘Sharing your stress and anxiety with us,’ explained Ron. ‘And not in a helpful way.’

She sighed, ‘I just…’

‘I know, you’re worried about us, your mates,’ said Ron. ‘I, we, get it. And we like the fact that you care, just ease up a little sometimes, ok My?’

Hermione deflated a little, ‘Ok. I just feel like you guys aren’t taking school as seriously as you should, sometimes.’

‘We do care about school,’ explained Harry. ‘But we don’t see it as the end of the world if we don’t top the class.’

Peter took over, ‘As long as all three of us can honestly say that we gave our absolute best efforts, we’ll make peace with that.’

‘Even if other people think you could have done better?’ asked Hermione, a little nervously.

_Ah, there’s the root of this. Who got at you like this? Should we find them and belt some sense into them?_

‘If you know deep within yourself that the truth is you did everything you could, why bother listening to what other people think?’ Peter said in response. ‘After all, it’s your life, not theirs, you know?’

Hermione visibly relaxed at this comment, whilst Harry and Ron also seemed to be thinking this sentiment over very carefully.

‘Is that wisdom you’ve gained from your unique existence there, PD?’ Hermione asked with a slight smile.

‘If that’s what would convince you to follow that advice, then, yes,’ the tigrian answered with a smile.

Hermione’s apparent good feeling from that advice seemed to have worn off as she looked like she was mulling something over very carefully.

‘What kind of people write death threats to a three-year-old?’ she asked with a frown.

‘Nutjobs,’ said Harry.

‘Weirdos,’ said Ron.

‘Arseholes,’ said Peter.

Hermione considered those answers before asking, ‘Right, but are they mentally ill or super religious or a strange kind of fanatic or what?’

‘Most of them are your common or garden variety biblical literalist Christian fanatic,’ stated Peter. ‘They don’t like me because my mere existence offends against God’s plan or His great design or something, apparently.’

‘What do they mean by that?’ asked Ron, looking very confused.

‘It means tigrians aren’t in the Bible and are very publicly known to have been brought into existence within the last two decades,’ explained Peter. ‘Which means that their theory of a creator doesn’t account for me because my species was created by some mad sort of scientist/alchemist people, there’s records and everything.’

‘Some people out there can get very touchy about their religious beliefs, Ron,’ added Hermione.

‘Some magical folk can get the same way about their beliefs in blood-purity too,’ replied Ron. ‘Most of it is silly. It’s just people looking for an excuse to say they’re better than you.’

Everyone in the room knew that the Weasleys as a family were rather proud of not caving into any prejudice against muggles or other groups looked down upon in wizarding society. In fact, Ron had gotten very upset when he overheard someone calling Dean Thomas a rather derogatory name just because he has dark skin, though that was before the points were lost and he was being shunned as being associated with the guilty ones. But Ron stood firmly by the values his family often took harsh criticism or even outright hatred for believing in. He had on least two occasions explained that blood status, skin colour, religion and who you were attracted to were things he didn’t really care about, whether you were a person of good character was much more important and he just wanted to see his family and friends happy.

‘I’m keeping an eye on it, but I’m not getting worked up over nothing,’ said Peter firmly.

‘Alright, I suppose we’d better get back to studying then,’ replied Hermione, dropping the subject for now.

They got some books out and moved on with their exam revision.

### *~*~*

Harry’s Invisibility Cloak had been returned to him the night of their detention in the forest, but the Quartet had no time or excuse to use it during their exam period. Fluffy continued to growl and scratch around behind the locked door, sounding alive and well, doing his job of guarding the trapdoor and the stone.

The written exams were conducted in a very large room, which was also extremely hot and caused Peter no end of discomfort. After his third exam, Peter fainted with heat exhaustion, this prompted Madam Pomfrey to insist that he be allowed to use a cooling charm or potion to control his body temperature. All students were issued with anti-cheating quills, a decision that Peter didn’t like as he had to scrub the ink out of his fur after every exam. Harry, Hermione and Ron got a couple of clear indications as to how being covered in fur was not always an advantage.

The practical components of some of the subjects were relatively straight forward, charm a pineapple to tap-dance across a desk, transfigure a mouse into a snuff box, brew a forgetfulness potion. All tasks which Peter found he could undertake fairly well, and he was confident his practical scores would be quite good.

Harry had been struggling with some rather nasty and frightening nightmares all through the exam period, these had started after the night in the forest and his scar was also throbbing very painfully. Peter was the only one who understood what was bothering him about these nightmares, given he was the only other person at Hogwarts who had witnessed what Harry had come face-to-face within the forest, and it was definitely nightmare-inducing. Because of this, Peter had noticed that Hermione and Ron were not quite as concerned about the stone as Harry and himself, plus he was starting to think that Professor Quirrell was trying to hide something rather nasty under his turban, he just had a sense that something was off about him.

They got through to their last exam for the year, History of Magic, without anything happening. Peter fumed throughout the hour and wasn’t much better afterwards. He was wound up tight and launched into a rant about it as the group made their way towards the lake. The others weren’t interested in the content of Peter’s displeasure but, let him go on as a kind of catharsis, given it wasn’t anything they hadn’t heard before on this topic. By the time they reached the lake Peter had run out of anger and was feeling better for having vented his frustrations, and they watched Fred, George and Lee Jordan tickling the giant squid that was warming itself in the shallows.

Ron was feeling chipper about the end of exams and revision for the year, whilst Hermione was concerned about what she might not have gotten right. Harry, on the other hand, was distracted by what the throbbing of his scar might mean, and Peter was worried that something bad was about to go down. Ron wasn’t concerned about it, pointing out that it would be stupid to try to get the stone while Dumbledore was still at the castle, and that Hagrid would never let Dumbledore down. Hermione tried to dismiss Harry’s growing sense of unease as just exam stress but stopped short when Peter said he felt it as well and it wasn’t about exams.

As Peter thought back about Hagrid, a sudden realisation hit him between the eyes.

_Why did that bloke have a dragon egg in the pub? Why would he get Hagrid drunk over it? What information did he try to get out of Hagrid? Who was the bloke with the egg?_

He looked across to Harry, they shared what felt like a lightbulb moment.

‘Holy shit,’ exclaimed Peter, his eyes wide.

Both Harry and Peter were suddenly on their feet and walking towards Hagrid’s.

‘Where’re you going?’ asked Ron rather sleepily.

‘I can’t believe I didn’t see it before,’ said Peter, his face ashen, such an expression not easy to achieve with a fur-covered face.

‘I’ve just thought of something, and I think Peter’s had the same thought,’ said Harry. He was now very pale. They both said, ‘We’ve got to go and see Hagrid, now.’

‘Why?’ panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.

The explanation involved Harry and Peter taking turns to speak.

‘Don’t you think it’s a bit odd,’ started Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, ‘that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, …’

‘…and suddenly a stranger turns up at the pub who just happens to have an egg in his pocket?’ continued Peter.

‘How many people do you think go wandering around with dragon eggs if it’s against the law?’ asked Harry

‘They got very lucky bumping into Hagrid, don’t you think?’ wondered Peter.

‘Why didn’t we see it before?’ they finished together.

‘What are you two on about?’ said Ron, but Harry and Peter, sprinting across the grounds towards the Forest, didn’t answer.

Hagrid was relaxing in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, shelling peas into a large bowl.

‘Hullo,’ he said, smiling. ‘Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?’

‘Yes, please,’ said Ron, but Harry and Peter cut across him.

‘No, we’re in a hurry. Hagrid, we’ve got to ask you something,’ Started Harry.

‘You know that night you won Norbert?’ asked Peter.

‘What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?’ finished Harry.

‘Dunno,’ said Hagrid casually, ‘he wouldn’ take his cloak off.’

He saw three of the four of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows. Peter frowned slightly, knowing that meant this person didn’t want to be identified.

‘It’s not that unusual, yeh get a lot o’ funny folk in the Hog’s Head – that’s one of the pubs down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn’ he? I never saw his face; he kept his hood up.’

Both Harry and Peter sank down next to the bowl of peas.

‘What did you talk to him about, Hagrid?’ asked Peter.

‘Did you mention Hogwarts at all?’ asked Harry.

‘Mighta come up,’ said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. ‘Yeah … he asked what I did, an’ I told him I was gamekeeper here … He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I look after … so I told him … an’ I said what I’d always really wanted was a dragon … an’ then … I can’ remember too well, ’cause he kept buyin’ me drinks … Let’s see … yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an’ we could play cards fer it if I wanted … but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn’ want it ter go ter any old home … So, I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy …’

‘And did he… did he seem interested in Fluffy?’ Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

Peter’s frown deepened; he could already sense where this might be going.

‘Well… yeah… how many three-headed dogs d’yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So, I told him, Fluffy’s a piece o’ cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus’ play him a bit o’ music an’ he’ll go straight off ter sleep —’

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.

‘I shouldn’ta told yeh that!’ he blurted out. ‘Forget I said it! Hey — where’re yeh goin’?’

The Quartet bolted from Hagrid’s and didn’t speak to each other at all until they came to a halt in the Entrance Hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds.

‘We’ve got to go to Dumbledore,’ said Harry. ‘Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak — it must’ve been easy, once he’d got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn’t stop him. Where’s Dumbledore’s office?’

‘Slow down, Harry,’ cautioned Peter. ‘We only know it was someone acting for Voldemort, not exactly who it is.’

‘But we can still warn Dumbledore that someone knows how to get past Fluffy,’ argued Harry.

‘Agreed,’ said both Ron and Hermione.

‘Ok, follow me,’ said Peter.

He led them to the entrance to the Headmaster’s office and spoke to the gargoyle guarding the entrance.

‘Headmaster Dumbledore is not available at the moment,’ it told them.

And that was all it told them, and it wouldn’t take a message either. Three of the Quartet were beginning to panic, Peter was thinking of a way to get in touch with the Headmaster even if he was out. Harry felt like he was running out of options.

‘We’ll just have to –’ Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.

‘What are you four doing inside?’

It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

‘We were hoping to see Headmaster Dumbledore,’ said Hermione, cutting across Peter’s attempt to speak, Harry and Ron thought she was being rather brave.

‘See Headmaster Dumbledore?’ Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. ‘Why?’

Harry swallowed, clearly wondering what to do next. Peter tried to talk again but Harry beat him to it.

‘It’s sort of secret,’ he said, but he wished at once he hadn’t, because Professor McGonagall’s nostrils flared.

_I was going to say something about me getting odd hate mail._ Thought Peter. _That would’ve been much less suspicious, you berk!_

‘Headmaster Dumbledore left ten minutes ago,’ she said coldly. ‘He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once.’

_Shit._

‘He’s gone?’ said Harry frantically. ‘Now?’

‘Headmaster Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time —’

‘But this is important.’

_Don’t say it._

‘Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?’

** _Don’t_ ** _ say it._

‘Look,’ said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, ‘Professor, it’s about the Philosopher’s Stone —’

_God Damn it._

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn’t that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn’t pick them up.

‘How do you know…?’ she spluttered.

‘Professor, I think… I know, that Sn… that someone’s going to try and steal the Stone. I’ve got to talk to Professor Dumbledore.’

She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

_Well, that plan is now screwed._

‘Headmaster Dumbledore will be back tomorrow,’ she said finally. ‘I don’t know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it’s too well protected.’

‘But Professor —’

‘Potter, I know what I’m talking about,’ she said shortly. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. ‘I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine.’

‘Professor,’ started Peter. ‘Any news on the complaints being made against me?’

Professor McGonagall eyed her tigrian student a little suspiciously, but apparently could not find any reason other than the obvious one, as to why he was asking.

‘I’m afraid that the Headmaster has not informed me of anything you don’t already know about that,’ she said. ‘I suspect these complaints will come to nothing, but I don’t know yet, Mr Linnell.’

‘Thank you, Professor.’

The Quartet didn’t go back outside, Harry was too worked up about the stone.

‘It’s tonight,’ said Harry, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. ‘Snape’s going through the trapdoor tonight. He’s found out everything he needs and now he’s got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up.’

‘But what can we —’

‘Good afternoon, Professor Snape,’ said Peter suddenly. ‘Stalking students is a little unbecoming on a day like this. I would have expected you to be marking exams or experimenting in your potions lab right now.’

Hermione gasped, while Harry and Ron wheeled round.

Their Potions Master stood there looking a little annoyed, he’d clearly been hoping to catch the group by surprise.

‘Good afternoon,’ he said smoothly. ‘Yes, I do understand your expectations of me, but I am presently taking a break from such activities.’

‘It seems a shame to waste a break like that inside the castle, Professor,’ replied Peter.

‘In that case, you shouldn’t be inside on a day like this either,’ he said, with an odd, twisted smile.

‘We were —’ Harry began, without any idea what he was going to say.

‘Going back to Gryffindor Tower, to enjoy some music I have,’ Peter finished for him.

‘Sounds interesting, you want to be more careful,’ said Snape. ‘Hanging around like this, people will think that you are up to something. And Gryffindor really cannot afford to lose any more points, can they?’

Harry flushed. They turned to go up to their tower, but Snape called them back.

‘Be warned, Potter… any more night-time wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you.’

He strode off in the direction of the staff room.

As they climbed the marble staircase, Harry turned to the others.

‘Right, here’s what we’ve got to do,’ he whispered urgently. ‘One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape, wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves it. Hermione, you’d better do that.’

‘Why me?’

‘It’s obvious,’ said Ron. ‘You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know.’ He put on a high voice, ‘Oh Professor Flitwick, I’m so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong…’

‘Oh, shut up,’ said Hermione.

‘There’s no call for that, Ron,’ said Peter. ‘I think you should go down and actually see Flitwick, Hermione. And the two of you should stay with me, in the tower while we nut out a plan,’ he gestured to Harry and Ron.

‘Ok, I’ll go, but I’ll try to keep a watch on Snape if I can,’ Hermione said as she turned to leave.

‘I think we’d better stay outside the third-floor corridor,’ Harry told Ron and Peter. ‘Come on.’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ said Peter. ‘It’s more likely that the stone will be threatened at night and going down there now is only going to raise suspicions.’

Harry managed to talk Ron into going to the door and they left Peter to walk up to his dorm room. Once upstairs Peter put on a record, _Dark Side of the Moon_ by Pink Floyd, and waited for the inevitable arrival of his friends, their tails between their legs.

_I’m sure that I would make the meaning of that phrase more obvious if I took that posture,_ He thought.

Peter had been right about hanging around the door, Professor McGonagall was livid that they would think to do such a thing and had threatened the boys with more points being taken away. The boys had the good sense to leave and go up to Peter’s room instead of testing their Head of House on her threats.

‘Ok, you were right about the door,’ declared Harry, as he and Ron entered Peter’s room.

‘I’m not saying, “I told you so”,’ Peter replied. ‘And I don’t think that Hermione is going fare much better in keeping an eye on Snape, but we’d better think of a plan for tonight.’

Ron defended Hermione, ‘She’ll give it her best shot, I know she will.’

‘Agreed,’ said both Harry and Peter.

At that moment the door swung open to reveal Hermione, who looked a little upset.

‘I’m sorry, boys!’ she wailed. ‘Snape answered the staff room door and went and got Flitwick for me. I’ve only just finished up with him, but Snape had disappeared by then and I don’t know where he went.’

‘Did you see Quirrell down there?’ asked Peter.

‘No. Do you think he’s in danger,’ replied Hermione.

‘Only from his own ambition,’ commented Peter. At the raised eyebrows of his companions he went on, ‘He’s shady, you’ve got to admit that.’

All three of his companions conceded that point.

‘Well, I suppose that’s it then, isn’t it?’ Harry said.

The other three stared at him. He was pale, and his eyes were glittering.

‘I’m going out of here tonight and I’m going to try and get to the Stone first.’

‘Alright,’ said Peter.

‘You’re mad!’ said Ron.

‘You can’t!’ said Hermione. ‘After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You’ll be expelled!’

‘SO, WHAT?!’ Harry shouted. ‘Don’t you understand? If Snape steals the Stone, Voldemort’s coming back! —’

‘If someone hands the stone to Voldemort and if he makes it back into power, we’re all screwed!’ declared Peter firmly, cutting across Harry. ‘So, I’m going down through that trapdoor with you tonight and you’re coming out alive because the Dark Side isn’t an option!’

His face had taken on a hard expression as he said this, his friends were very surprised by the force behind his statement.

‘So, are you coming with me?’ he asked the room.

Hermione, Ron and Harry squared their shoulders and took on a determined, defiant posture before the each of them gave a firm nod as they stated, ‘Of course I’m going with you.’

‘Right, I think we can all fit under Harry’s Invisibility Cloak, so we can all help him out with this,’ said Peter, as he began to formulate a plan. ‘I’ll get my recorder out, I’ll have to practise a little because I’m not having Fluffy damage my trumpet.’

‘You have a trumpet?’ asked Hermione.

‘What’s a recorder?’ asked Ron.

Peter summoned both instruments and pulled his carved rosewood recorder from its padded leather pouch and showed Ron how a recorder produces its sound. After he’d done that, he showed his friends the handsome brass instrument which was his and gave a demonstration of how to produce the sound using only the mouthpiece.

‘We’ll have to wait until everyone else has left the common room,’ said Peter, getting back to the plan for tonight. ‘Then we’ll need to get down to Fluffy without being detected.’

‘I should see if I can find something useful in my books,’ said Hermione, wearing a focussed expression. ‘And you’ll need all our help to get to the stone.’

‘But you three could also be expelled if we get caught.’

‘You are not doing this alone!’ cried Ron. ‘And if it happens, so be it.’

‘With senses like mine, we’re not getting caught,’ said Peter firmly.

‘Besides,’ added Hermione, ‘Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve per cent on his exam. They’re not throwing me out after that.’


	11. Chapter Eleven: Trapdoors and Challenges.

Peter spent much of his time before dinner that night practising with his recorder so that he would be ready to send Fluffy to sleep when the time came. Hermione had apparently been furiously digging through all her notes and books, frantically searching for any scraps of information that might be useful for the task ahead. Ron was concentrated on keeping Harry as calm as possible and also focussed on the demands of the task in front of them.

After dinner, the Quartet drifted between their dorms and the Gryffindor common room, more as a means of keeping tabs on who was still up than for social interaction, given they were still being shunned over the massive loss of points. This didn’t bother them as they wanted to be left to themselves, trying to prepare themselves for what they were planning to do.

As the hours wound down the crowd in the common room began to thin out as more students went up to bed, still, the Quartet sat in the comfortable room, waiting for the point where they were left by themselves and could set out on their mission. At last, Lee Jordan stretched, yawned and left to get some sleep, and Ron urged Harry to retrieve the Cloak. Both Harry and Peter went upstairs, Harry came down with the Cloak and the little rough flute Hagrid had given him, whilst Peter returned with a small leather messenger bag, into which he was tucking two pouches, one containing his recorder, the other containing about five marbles of an inch in diameter.

At the quizzical look on his friends’ faces, he explained, ‘They’re clear glass marbles with an unbreaking charm on them. We might need them to test any long drops we come across. Plus, I’ve got a first-aid kit in the bag as well.’

In response to this explanation, the other three mumbled something about it being a good idea to bring those marbles and the first-aid kit. The next step was to carefully test if they could all fit under the Cloak, which turned out to be a rather tight squeeze for them to be covered properly. But it would suffice for the journey down to Fluffy.

Unfortunately, Neville had followed Harry down from his dorm or been hiding in the room and decided to choose this moment to make himself known to the group. He was holding Trevor, his toad, and looked concerned about the situation in front of him and made a serious effort to talk the Quartet out of going anywhere.

‘If you go out again, you’ll get caught and lose more points. I mean, haven’t you lot done enough wandering about at night already,’ pleaded Neville.

‘This isn’t just for our own amusement, Neville!’ cried Peter.

‘Really? Why then?’

_Bugger_.

When none of the Quartet could come up with a convincing answer to that question, Neville decided to try and block the portrait hole at which point Harry appealed to Hermione to _‘do something’_. But Peter could see that she was wrestling with the idea of using magic against their friend and stepped in after Hermione continued to hesitate.

‘Neville, please step away from the door,’ he said.

‘No. You’ll have to fight me,’ replied Neville shakily.

‘I really don’t want to do this.’

‘Oh, well maybe you should stay in the tower then.’

Peter sighed, ‘But if you’re going to keep on with this, I don’t have much choice.’

Peter was grim-faced, as he took a steadying breath.

‘I’m sorry, Neville. This won’t be pleasant.’

‘What are —’

Neville’s sentence was cut off as Peter levelled his snow gum wand at his housemate and spoke the incantation that Hermione had not quite been able to bring herself to use.

‘_Petrificus Totalus._’

The full body binding jinx took effect and Neville looked like he was standing at attention on parade, whilst his mouth snapped shut. Neville almost toppled onto his face, but Peter darted forward and caught him before he hit the floor.

Peter was still grim-faced as Hermione told the other boys what he had done.

‘I’m sorry, Neville. You were very brave to stand up to us,’ Peter told their now immobilised housemate. ‘We don’t have time to tell you everything now, but I promise you this is worth it, and we’ll explain everything later.’

Neville had initially been frightened but had calmed as Peter had caught him and laid him down on his back, he also seemed to accept both the praise and the rather grim-faced explanation offered by his tigrian housemate. The others did not feel very good about leaving Neville behind like that in the common room and were concerned that this was not a good sign of things to come.

### *~*~*

They managed to get to the first staircase before they came across Mrs Norris and Ron wondered if they should kick her _‘just this once’_. Peter gave him a nudge as both he and Harry shook their heads at him before they carefully manoeuvred around her. They kept moving towards Fluffy’s hallway and had come to the stairway up to the third floor when they encountered Peeves, who was busy loosening the carpet on the stairs so that people would trip up.

When Peeves challenged the invisible creature moving around, Harry pulled out a brilliant impression of the Bloody Baron to get Peeves to move on and leave this area of the castle alone for the night. After that, they covered the short distance to the door they were seeking in but a few seconds, and once there noticed that the door was slightly ajar. This seemed to bring the enormity and gravity of the task in front of them into very sharp focus.

‘Well, there you are then,’ whispered Harry. ‘Snape or whoever it is, has already got past Fluffy.’

‘Looks like we’ll have to go in now,’ said Peter, his voice barely above a whisper as he turned to face his companions. ‘Anyone who wants to turn back, go now and take the Cloak. No one will think any less of you.’ Harry nodded in agreement with this statement.

‘You’re joking, right?’ asked Hermione.

‘We’re with you ‘till the end,’ Ron declared firmly.

The door creaked as Harry pushed it open, which aroused the attention of all six of Fluffy’s ears. He began to growl as he looked at the empty doorway, if only because his nose was telling him that someone was in the room with him even if he couldn’t see them.

‘What’s that thing at its feet?’ Hermione asked in a low whisper.

‘Looks like a harp,’ said Ron. ‘Whoever was here must have left it behind.’

‘It must wake up the moment you stop playing,’ said Harry.

‘You’ll have to use your flute first, Harry,’ said Peter. ‘I’ll use a marble to check the drop and then I’ll take over the music with my recorder.’

‘Ok, well, here goes…’

Harry lifted the flute to his lips and began to blow, he wasn’t really playing a tune but Fluffy began to drift off as he played, the beast slumping down onto its side, sleeping peacefully.

Peter and Ron moved out from under the Cloak and lifted the trapdoor before Peter pulled out his pouch of marbles.

_‘Nigris Alba,’_ Peter muttered.

The marble his wand was aimed at in his hand began to give off a bright white light before he dropped it down the hole. Himself, Hermione and Ron watched as the marble lit up the decent drop down onto a bed of vine-like plants before it slowly sank through them. The light had revealed no doorways or other exits above the vines.

‘I think we’ll have to land on it and sink through,’ said Peter. ‘Might be best if we try to relax our bodies as much as possible, those vines could be snares of some sort.’

The group nodded, and Harry gestured that he was going first. Peter pulled his recorder from its pouch and began to play a tune that Hermione was surprised she recognised.

‘It that the theme from Jurassic Park?’ she asked, a little amazed at Peter’s choice of music.

Peter simply nodded as best he could whilst he continued to play. Harry meanwhile had put his flute in his pocket and was ready to drop down the hole. He climbed down until he was holding on by his fingertips.

‘If I don’t shout for you to follow me, get a message straight to Dumbledore. Hedwig’s up in the owlery,’ Harry said. ‘Promise me you’ll do that, Ron.’

‘‘Course I will, mate,’ Ron replied. ‘But we’re not going to need that, right?’

‘I’ll do my best.’

And he let go, dropping into the darkness until the three still up top heard a soft thud.

‘I’m alright, you can come down guys,’ came Harry’s shout.

Ron followed immediately, whilst Hermione looked a little nervous about the fall before dropping through the hole. Peter continued to play right up until he stepped off the edge through the opening and somehow managed to stow his recorder before he hit the plants.

Peter, working with his original hunch, managed to relax his whole body after he landed and began to ease through the layer of plants while the other three were still moving around.

‘PD! What are you doing!’ called Hermione, her tone betraying panic. ‘This is Devil’s Snare! You have to get untangled!’

‘We have to sink through the layer to get out,’ explained Peter. ‘So, relax your body completely and you’ll drop through.’

But Hermione had entered panic mode and was getting more securely ensnared as she tried to move and began to breathe very rapidly.

‘Hermione, please calm down,’ pleaded Ron. ‘How do we get unsnared?’

‘Um… Professor Sprout said that Devil’s Snare likes dark and damp conditions —’

‘So, light a fire!’ Harry called, having dropped through.

‘Right… of course… but there’s no wood here —’

‘HAVE YOU GONE MAD?’ Ron bellowed. ‘ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?’

As Hermione reached for her wand to try and cast a fire-lighting spell, a tendril of the plant she was struggling against wrapped itself around her neck and squeezed. The incantation died on her lips as she began to be strangled by the Devil’s Snare. Peter heard the sickening, tell-tale sounds of someone beginning to choke to death.

‘PD, DO SOMETHING! SAVE HER!’ demanded Ron, having just dropped through the layer.

Harry was trying to pull at the vines from underneath, to no avail.

‘Stand back and shield your eyes!’ barked Peter.

His friends obeyed as he drew both of his wands, one in each hand, and proceeded to simultaneously cast a spell with each.

_‘Incendio! Lumos Solem!’_

From the tip of his snow gum wand, held in his dominant left hand, erupted a jet of flames, whilst a powerful beam of bright sunlight burst forth from the tip of his sycamore wand, held in his non-dominant right hand. The snare parted around the light and heat, releasing Hermione, who then dropped into the arms of both Harry and Ron.

_‘Finite Incantatem.’_

As soon as Peter said it, the flames, sunbeam and the glow in the marble disappeared, and he staggered backwards to the wall and sagged down onto the floor from magical overexertion. Ron was hovering worriedly over Hermione as she continued to cough and try to get her breathing back under control.

‘PD!’ cried Harry, as he rushed over to his friend. ‘That was brilliant! Are you ok? You don’t look so good.’

‘I’ll be ok,’ Peter answered. ‘Just used a bit too much magic at once, that’s all.’

He tried to get up, which only ended in him flopping back down into his previous position. Hermione had recovered from nearly being choked to death by a plant and was now hovering over Peter, looking very concerned. Peter was struggling to focus on anything at the moment, his vision was blurry as he teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, and he was having trouble listening to the voices of his friends.

Hermione hugged him tightly, gushing something about her gratitude for him saving her life before all three of his companions expressed great concern at his current physical state, particularly the fact that he seemed unable to stand up on his own at the moment. He tried to mumble an assurance that he was fine, but that was shot down very quickly. In the end, he admitted that he wasn’t going to be much help down here from this point onwards.

Peter was hauled to his feet by his friends, and with Ron’s help managed to stagger down the corridor that led away from the Devil’s Snare chamber. As they closed in on the end of this passageway, they began to hear the sounds of soft rustling and clinking. Without the ability to rely on Peter’s hearing to tell them what it might be, they had wait to get closer to be able to tell that they were hearing wingbeats along with the clinking noise, at which point they suspected there were a lot of birds in the next chamber.

After a couple of minutes Harry realised, they were looking up at a flock of winged keys, and that they would have to get on the broomsticks leaning against the wall to catch the right one to open the door. Peter was still too disoriented to climb onto a broom to help catch the right key, so Hermione realised that she would have to be very involved with overcoming this challenge. To her credit, she screwed up her Gryffindor courage, mounted up and helped Harry and Ron corner the right key.

Once they had caught the correct key, the other three heaved Peter back to his feet and helped him through the door where they came face to face with a giant wizard’s chess set. Once again, they set Peter down against the wall, this time behind the black chess pieces, as his head was now clear enough to start rummaging through his first-aid kit looking for a small vial of Pepper-Up Potion to help clear his head. Whilst Peter was doing this, Harry, Hermione and Ron had worked out that they would each have to replace one of the black chess pieces to play their way across the board. Harry took the place of a bishop, Hermione a rook, and Ron a knight. Harry and Hermione put all their confidence in Ron’s skills at Wizard’s Chess, and Peter knew he would get them across the board.

Ron directed the black pieces in a very tight, closely fought match. Both sides moved about the board, taking many opposing pieces as each side tried to gain a clear advantage. Eventually, Peter found the vial he was looking for just as Ron told Harry and Hermione that he would have to be taken in order for them to win the match.

‘We’re nearly there,’ he muttered suddenly. ‘Let me think… let me think …’

The white queen turned her blank face towards him.

‘Yes …’ said Ron softly, ‘it’s the only way … I’ve got to be taken.’

‘NO!’ Harry and Hermione shouted.

_That’s the only way to win and cross the board,_ thought Peter.

‘That’s chess!’ snapped Ron. ‘You’ve got to make some sacrifices! I’ll make my move and she’ll take me… that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!’

‘But —’

‘Do you want to stop whoever is working for Voldemort or not?’

‘Ron —’

‘Look, if you don’t hurry up, they’ll already have the Stone!’

‘I’ve got the first-aid kit,’ Peter called to Harry and Hermione. ‘I’ll look after him as best I can. He’ll be alright, ‘promise.’

The other two on the chessboard accepted this, and agreed to the move, knowing there was nothing else for it.

‘Ready?’ Ron called, his face pale but determined. ‘Here I go… now, don’t hang around once you’ve won.’

‘We’ll be fine.’

He stepped forward and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard around the head with her stone arm and he crashed to the floor, Hermione screamed but stayed on her square, the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he’d been knocked out.

Peter darted around the board to the where Ron was now slumped and began checking him over, whilst a shaking Harry moved three spaces to the left.

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry’s feet, conceding defeat and recognising their victory. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. Harry and Hermione hesitated in the doorway.

‘I’ve got this,’ called Peter. ‘Go! GO!’

With one last desperate look back at Peter and Ron, Harry and Hermione charged through the door and up the next passageway.

### *~*~*

Peter managed to drag Ron back to the wall he had been slumped against earlier, as he tried to check over his friend for any injuries. The White Queen had given Ron a rather nasty small cut on his head where she had hit him, Peter was struggling to clean and dress the wound, and stem the bleeding. He finally managed to get Ron patched up for now and laid out some single-dose vials of potions, one painkiller, one Pepper-Up and one shot of liquid chocolate.

Peter pulled out a small vial of smelling salts, popped it open and waved it under Ron’s nose, his friend began to stir. As Ron woke up, Peter cleaned up the materials he’d used trying to get Ron fixed up to the point where he could be moved up to the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey’s care.

Ron groaned loudly as he awoke, he’d clearly not expected the queen to hit him that hard.

‘Urgh… ow… that hurt more than I thought it would,’ moaned Ron.

‘Take it easy and drink up, mate,’ instructed Peter.

Ron looked sceptically at the potion vials in front of him, so Peter thought he’d better explain what they were.

‘Painkiller, Pepper-Up, liquid chocolate,’ he said as he pointed to each one.

Ron nodded and downed each in turn and began to feel a little better. Just then the door behind the white chess pieces burst open as Hermione bolted across the chamber towards them.

‘Oh, Ron! I’m so glad you’re ok,’ she exclaimed, as she wrapped him in a fierce hug.

‘Let him breathe, My,’ cautioned Peter.

She let go of Ron and gave Peter an equally strong hug.

‘Right… sorry… I’m just so relieved you’re both alright,’ she said as she let go.

‘What happened in there?’ Ron asked with a rather groggy voice. 

Hermione relayed what had happened beyond the chessboard, that she and Harry came across a stunned troll that was bigger than the one they faced on Hallowe’en, Peter was glad he hadn’t had to cross that room. After the troll room, they had come across a chamber with potion bottles and a rhyme. This turned out to be the Potions Master’s contribution to the protection measures around the stone, a logic puzzle built around potions. Hermione cracked the puzzle and left Harry to go onwards to face whoever was trying to take the stone, with instructions to get a message to Headmaster Dumbledore, as only one of them could go forward into the next chamber.

After Hermione had finished her explanation and Peter had packed up his first-aid kit, the three of them made their way back to the Devil’s Snare chamber. As they looked around for a way to get back up to the trapdoor, Peter summoned the marble he’d used on the way down and returned it to its leather pouch. What soon became apparent was that they would have to get above the vines somehow, either by blasting through or climbing around it.

‘We should check the walls for a passage that goes back up above the snare level,’ said Peter, as he began to run his fingers along the surface of the chamber wall.

Ron had picked up the brooms from the key chamber and was looking around to see where the most obvious spot in the wall to put a hidden passage would be, as Peter ran his fingers over a small stone in the wall which retreated slightly from the pressure of his touch.

‘I think I’ve found it!’ he called to his companions.

Ron and Hermione hurried over to where he was standing and joined him just as he pressed the stone all the way back into its socket. They listened as they heard a slight rumble from behind the wall before the stones began to rearrange themselves to reveal short passageway leading to a staircase.

They gathered their things and the brooms from the key chamber and set off into this new passageway. However, the light was cut off by secret door closing behind them, so they would have to light their wands.

‘You are not lighting your wand, PD!’ said Hermione sternly. ‘And neither are you, Ron! Both of you are still recovering from your injuries, so I’ll do it.’

Both boys did as they were told and followed Hermione as she led the way up the stairs, wand tip glowing faintly. The party came to the top of the staircase, where they saw another opening leading out onto a small landing just above the Devil’s Snare. They stepped out onto the landing and each mounted a broom. They kicked off hard from the platform and climbed towards Fluffy more slowly than they had dropped down, Hermione taking the lead so that the boys only needed to stay close behind the light of her wand as they made their way out.

Finally, the trio flew out through the trap door, Fluffy was so surprised by this that he forgot to be angry until all three students had landed on the other side of the door that was supposed to be locked. Peter had managed to scoop up Harry’s Invisibility Cloak as he raced across the room and through the doorway, then as he dismounted his broom, he handed it to Hermione.

‘You take the cloak and go up to the owlery, get Hedwig and send her with a message to Dumbledore,’ he told Hermione. ‘I’ll take Ron up to the Hospital Wing.’

‘But —’

‘My senses are fine, I’ll get us there without getting caught, My.’

‘Alright, just be careful, please.’

‘Don’t worry about us, My. We’ll be fine,’ said Ron. ‘You’d better get moving.’

‘Good luck, boys.’

‘Good luck, My. Now go!’ the boys replied.

Hermione swung the Cloak over herself and set out on her task, leaving the boys to head towards the Hospital Wing without being detected. This turned out to be more difficult than they had first thought after they had to dodge Peeves, Filch and Mrs Norris several times on their rather long route up to their destination and ended up hiding behind or under various objects as they tried to stay out of reach of the those who would get them into trouble.

### *~*~*

The boys managed to navigate the castle with enough stealth to get to the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey with being seen or caught by any other inhabitants of the castle. Once in the Matron’s care, they were fussed over and told that they were staying there for the rest of the night.

‘I can’t think how you would have gotten these injuries,’ she fussed. ‘And at this time of night too.’

Peter and Ron relaxed as much as they could, considering they were still very worried about Harry and what he was up to, what he was faced with in that final room under the castle. The boys had just settled down with some big chunks of chocolate when the door to the Hospital Wing opened to admit what looked like nothing but fresh air. Peter heard the faint footsteps of Hermione under the Cloak cross the room to the space between the boys’ hospital beds before she took off the Cloak and managed to stash it in Peter’s kit bag. She then presented herself to Madam Pomfrey to be checked over, the Matron remarking that she didn’t like the look of the angry red mark that wrapped around Hermione’s neck.

Hermione was soon detained under the same conditions as her friends, and there was now nothing they could do but get some sleep and wait to see how Harry would pull up after their latest adventure.


	12. Chapter Twelve: Homeward Bound.

Once the morning sun appeared through the windows, waking the three sleeping friends who had wandered in on their own last night, Hermione decided to tell the boys about what she saw last night on her trek to the owlery.

‘I ran into Dumbledore in the entrance hall on my way to the owlery,’ she explained. ‘As in, I literally crashed straight into him whilst under the Cloak.’

‘Wow. How did that go?’ asked Peter.

‘I took it off, he wasn’t surprised to see me, and he asked me, “Harry’s gone after him, hasn’t he?”, and when I nodded, he took off straight for the trapdoor.’

‘I’ll bet he already knew what we were going to try and do.’

‘I think your right about that, Ron.’

‘Harry’s been brought in during the night and from the sound of Madam Pomfrey, he’s not in very good shape. He’ll likely be out of it or asleep for a few days,’ Peter told his two presently conscious friends.

Both Ron and Hermione looked very concerned for the health of their unconscious friend, clearly hoping that Harry would come out of this with only bumps and scratches.

### *~*~*

Madam Pomfrey released them later in the day and after they checked on Harry’s condition, he was still unconscious, they started to make their way up to Peter’s room in Gryffindor Tower. However, Headmaster Dumbledore intercepted them outside the Hospital Wing.

‘Good morning, Hermione, Peter, Ron.’

‘Good morning, Headmaster,’ replied all three students.

‘I think we should go up to my office to discuss the events of last night,’ the Headmaster said gently.

They followed Dumbledore up to his office quietly, thankfully without being seen by any other students. Once inside, they were gently instructed to each take a seat and settle in for what felt like was going to be a long conversation. The door opened again, and Neville entered the office, he took a seat like his housemates

‘I believe that all of you are owed an explanation about last night,’ the Headmaster said.

Dumbledore then encouraged Hermione, Peter and Ron to tell both him and Neville about what they saw and did down under the castle. The three Gryffindors who had been down the trapdoor began to tell the tale of where they had been and what they had done, to the amazement of Neville.

As the story continued to be told, Neville began to realise that his housemates had not gone off on a grand adventure for their own amusement and they had had to face considerable dangers. Once Hermione, Peter and Ron’s story was finished it was their turn to be aghast as Dumbledore told them about what he’d found in the final chamber with the Mirror of Erised.

He started at the point of finding Harry grappling with one of his Professors, not Snape but Quirrell, who was also sort of possessed, sort of sharing his body with Voldemort. And the principal problem Quirrell was having in obeying his master’s orders to kill Harry was that when he tried to touch Harry or Harry touched him, his skin burned and blistered wherever they came into skin to skin contact.

Dumbledore had arrived in time to see Harry use this to defend himself against what may have been a very nasty curse and deduced that Harry had figured out how to get the stone from the mirror, he’d been holding it on him to protect it from Quirrell/Voldemort’s possession. In holding onto the stone, Harry had prevented the means of creating the Elixir of Life from falling into the hands the “greatest dark wizard of recent times” and then being used to engineer his return to power.

The Headmaster then explained about the conversation he and Nicolas Flamel had shared about the future of the stone, which resulted in their decision to destroy the stone to keep it from similar attempts to steal it. But that Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel were not concerned about their source of the Elixir of Life having been lost, having led long and fruitful lives. He told the students that his friends had enough stored Elixir to allow them to get their affairs in order and prepare to meet the end of their lives in peace.

‘Blimey…’ said Ron at the end of the explanation.

‘Indeed, Mr Weasley.’

‘So, you guys really didn’t have time to explain it to me,’ Neville said to his housemates. ‘I kind of… left you without many options, but to put me in a Full Body-Bind.’

‘I just couldn’t bring myself to do it, Neville,’ blurted Hermione.

Dumbledore’s eyebrows shot up at these comments and Peter quickly explained what had occurred in the common room.

‘I see.’

‘I’m really sorry, Neville,’ Peter apologised. ‘I felt like we were out of options.’

‘I understand, it was scary when it happened, but I get it,’ replied Neville. ‘I’m not angry about it.’

‘I meant what I said to you in the common room at the time,’ said Peter.

Neville smiled slightly at the renewed praise of his housemate, endorsed heartily by the other people in the room.

‘I think Mr Linnell’s words before they left you in the tower are both extremely accurate and express great remorse at what he felt was a necessary action at the time,’ said the Headmaster. ‘So, I think that there is no reason to discipline anyone in this room over it.’

All the students in the room heaved a sigh of relief at this pronouncement, and shortly afterwards, filed out of the Headmaster’s office.

### *~*~*

Harry remained unconscious in the infirmary for the following three days, during which he missed Gryffindor’s Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. Some people blamed his absence as the reason why the house of the lion lost the match and wasn’t able to close some of the gap to Slytherin in terms of points.

But the true reasons why he was incapacitated were soon the talk of the school, and many students not clad in green and silver began to appreciate what Harry, Hermione, Neville, Peter and Ron had gotten themselves tangled up in. In short, the shunning was at an end, even if the disappointment at the loss of points still remained.

Harry’s friends and some of his closer housemates came to visit him and leave tributes of various sorts of sweets at his bedside, with Madam Pomfrey hovering close by all the time like an aggressive mother swan protecting one her signets.

In the meantime, Hermione, Peter and Ron were hoping that Harry would be able to regain his health without any serious lasting consequences, even if they half admitted to themselves and each other that Harry was going to be affected badly by this experience.

Harry eventually woke up from his short coma and was seen by Headmaster Dumbledore before being surrounded by his mates, who listened with rapt attention to the story of what went down in the mirror chamber from Harry’s perspective, gasping in all the right places.

‘That was bloody scary down there,’ declared Ron, at the end of Harry’s tale.

‘Too right,’ Peter agreed.

‘Your eyes were odd while you were double casting,’ said Harry.

‘Yeah, they were glowing golden,’ Ron added.

‘That sounds like some really powerful kind of magic was running through you at the time,’ Hermione said thoughtfully, wearing a very concerned expression. ‘It could be something elemental, some “natural” ability to channel elemental magic.’

‘I did what I had to, under serious stress and pressure,’ Peter commented, the implication being that he saw it as nothing extraordinary, he’d just followed his instincts.

Hermione looked very unsure for a few moments, before asking, ‘Can… can I look through the despatch box?’

It was said in such a timid tone as though she was asking something too personal even for mates to talk about. Harry and Ron looked both surprised and uncertain, as though they were expecting Peter to clam up and shut them out somewhat for letting Hermione go on with asking this question.

To the relief of all three of them, Peter took a deep breath and considered for a little bit before giving Hermione his answer.

‘You can look through it with me.’

The tone was somewhat flat and even, but Hermione smiled slightly, she’d managed not to damage her friendship with the tigrian despite his very evident reluctance to allow her access to the case materials.

‘Thank you, Peter,’ she said. She thought about saying more but decided he might shut her out if she wasn’t very careful.

After Madam Pomfrey shooed the three visitors out of the Hospital Wing, Hermione climbed the girls’ dormitory stairs all the way to the top, stepped into the hallway at the top and knocked on the door marked P. Linnell.

‘Come in, My,’ Peter called to her.

‘You don’t sound entirely happy about this,’ she observed.

‘You wouldn’t have left it be, it was only a matter of time before you’d ask to do this.’

He was now facing her, so she simply nodded at that.

‘All of you look at me weird when I’m angry as well…’

‘It’s because the air crackles around you and it feels like there are currents of raw, barely restrained magic flowing around and through you when you’re really angry,’ explained Hermione.

‘Right… I’ve never noticed it… or thought about it.’

‘Why would you? You’re usually in the moment,’ said Hermione, her tone indicating she thought it was the most natural and obvious answer.

‘Hopefully, we’ll find some answers in the box.’

‘I think it might be linked to elemental magic,’ Hermione stated.

‘I suppose we’ll find out.’

They began to sift through a whole lot of information in the box, well, Hermione examined it after Peter had summoned it from the box as he really didn’t have the stomach for reading the reports and notes about himself and what was done to him. It was easier to deal with the nightmares, memory flashes and dark thoughts that floated around his head, all related to his abduction if he emotionally and mentally detached from it as much as possible.

Hermione seemed to understand this as she didn’t talk to him about it, instead, she chose to stick to less difficult and touchy topics.

‘I feel like the producers of those films should have cast someone like Ian McKellen or Sir Alec Guinness to play Dumbledore,’ she stated. ‘Our Headmaster seems to be less delicate than what they have portrayed so far.’

‘Yeah, he doesn’t seem to be held back by his age at all.’

The two of them didn’t talk much after that. Hermione continued her hunt through the box for the rest of that day and later left to do other things promising to be back early tomorrow to pick it up again.

But the next morning, when Hermione went up to Peter’s room early after breakfast, she received no answer to her knock on his door the first time and so she tried again. At the second lack of reply, she called to him through the door and got no reply.

Ron had come up to his dorm to collect something and could hear Hermione calling to Peter through his dorm room door. He could tell something wasn’t going as normal by how agitated Hermione was getting as she tried to communicate with their furred friend.

‘What’s wrong, My?’ asked Ron.

‘I don’t know, he might have shut me out.’

‘Over that research stuff?’

‘Maybe.’

Ron stepped forward and tried the door handle, which turned easily, letting both of them into the room. Hermione was a little alarmed at the idea of wandering into someone else’s private space, especially because it belongs to a good friend, and was a little hesitant to move further into the room and look for her friend. Once inside, however, Ron noticed the same screen that they had used to watch those odd films based on JK Rowling’s books was on and was playing something in silence.

‘Why is there no sound?’ he asked Hermione.

‘The volume is turned down,’ she answered.

They checked the room for their friend but couldn’t find Peter anywhere. Coming back to the television set they noticed a picture of an odd, kind of worm-like twisted metallic loop moving around on the screen. Hermione thought that it was the logo identifying the broadcast television network being played on the screen, based on how it was being shown on the screen. Hermione also noticed the two clocks on the mantlepiece for the first time, one showed 9:00 AM, the second showed 6:00 PM with a brass plate under the face inscribed: Melbourne.

Hermione went through the materials from the box which were still sitting out as she explained to Ron that she thought Peter had been given an altered conversion catalyst, one designed to make him into a tigrian capable of channelling elemental magic. This explanation took some time to get through as Ron asked a lot of questions to try and clarify what Hermione’s theory is and why she thinks that it fits with what she has found so far.

They talked and worked until about ten minutes to seven o’clock in Melbourne, when the fireplace flared with green flames and their black and white friend stepped out of the floo wearing a khaki uniform, brushing the soot from his clothes and fur.

‘Oh, hello,’ he said, startled. ‘I forgot about this last night, My.’

‘Oh, ok… where have you been?’ asked Hermione.

‘Cubs, back in Melbourne. Hence the uniform.’

‘How did you get there?’ asked Ron.

‘Flooed to Australia House, and then Portcoach from there.’

‘Portcoach?’ asked Hermione.

‘Basically, a carriage without wheels that uses Portkey magic to travel,’ explained Peter.

Peter explained that Cub Scouts was something he had been involved with since before he came to Hogwarts and that his ability to keep up with his scouting commitments was part of the deal with the scholarship arrangement.

By this point, the Melbourne clock read 6:59 PM and the conversation was cut off by the sudden unmuting of the television set. The sound started with rumbling drum roll before a loud trumpet call as a version of the “worm” logo wafted across the screen from the bottom left-hand corner. This was followed by short clips of video flashing up on the screen whilst a cool and calm Australian male voice clearly announced the headlines. Ron was enraptured by what he was seeing on the screen and watched in what could be described as wonder as the titles flashed and concluded. Then he gasped as the friendly face of the newsreader appeared, a rather experienced looking man wearing a dark suit, crisp white shirt and fairly simply patterned tie, with short-cropped slowly silvering hair and sparkling blue eyes. Peter could tell that Ron had never seen this before, as his friend watched and listened as the gentleman on the screen announced, in the same voice that had given the headlines, ‘Good evening, Ian Henderson with _ABC News_…’

After they had watched the news bulletin, Peter and Hermione had to explain to Ron that what he had seen on the screen was referred to by muggle media as a tv news program. Ron was confused about why muggles wouldn’t just read the newspaper with the pictures being able to move somewhat, Peter had an answer to that by pulling out a copy of _The Times_ he’d been reading while waiting at Australia House and showing Ron that the pictures in a muggle newspaper don’t move, and Hermione told him that muggle photographs don’t move at all. Ron had trouble visualising this because all his experience with photographs had been in the wizarding community.

‘I suppose depends on what you’ve grown up with for some of this stuff,’ Observed Ron.

‘Normal is relative,’ agreed Peter.

Hermione simply nodded in agreement, not looking up from the papers she was perusing. To her, the most important thing right now was to use her opportunity to research some things about the tigrian race, and the methods of “obtaining candidates” for the experiments, things that might help her brother. She might find it interesting later to consider that Ron was adjusting to interacting with muggle things more regularly quite well, considering his upbringing was entirely within the wizarding world.

_Some things just need be filed under the “I’ll think about that later” heading,_ Thought Peter.

Meanwhile, Hermione was furiously making notes and reading pages and pages of reports and information at a very fast pace, hunting for anything to help her put together a theory as to why Peter’s eyes were glowing whilst he was double casting under the castle. Her theories weren’t coming together so far, there were a lot of gaps in the available copies of Blackthorne’s notes and the available alchemical studies conducted according to proper ethics covered very little of the necessary areas of study. She apparently suspected that this was due to the ethical problems with experimenting on recognised wizarding citizens, even if they consent.

Peter couldn’t bring himself to read through the notes that detailed what Cain Blackthorne and his little friends had done to him specifically, and “subjects” who were very young children at the time.

_Some memories do not need to be revisited if it can be avoided._

Hermione began to huff and sigh in the way that the other two had learned was her tell about her feeling an increasing level of exasperation with the metaphorical blank stone walls she crashing into as she tried to knit together a theory based on verifiable facts rather than just guessing based on what she reasoned out as the most rational explanation without a basis in evidence.

‘Urgh, this is pointless!’ she cried in frustration, ‘There are too many gaps in Blackthorne’s notes and not enough work from other people in here.’

Hermione got up from her notes, huffed across the room and flopped onto the couch.

‘So much is missing, I can’t figure this out based on the box alone.’

She seemed defeated at that moment and looked a little deflated, sprawled on the couch. Peter understood the feeling; he had wrestled with the contents of the box before and ended up in the same situation as Hermione now found herself in.

‘I think this isn’t going to be something we can just look up in one go, My,’ explained Peter. ‘we might have to do our own research and experiments to figure this out.’

‘That doesn’t make me feel better about the fact that I’ve come out of this empty-handed.’

‘But you haven’t, My,’ started Ron. ‘Knowing where the gaps are is good, now we know exactly what we have and some idea of what we don’t.’

Peter agreed, and both boys praised Hermione for her efforts. Hermione looked less defeated after the heartfelt acclamation of her friends, and the trio made their way downstairs to lunch in the great hall.

At lunch the trio listened to the table conversation, it was mainly concerned with Harry’s continuing confinement to the Hospital Wing and the rumours that surrounded what put him there. There was a lot of ridiculous speculation that Hermione, Neville, Peter and Ron were not particularly interested in either confirming, denying or even discussing, mostly because they knew the terrors of what had taken place beneath the castle four days previously, and it was nowhere near as glamorous as some of the others at the table thought it was.

The quartet who had sat at the table and deflected all the silly questions about the “adventure” under the castle, spent the afternoon sitting in Peter’s room playing Five Hundred and listening to records in front of the fire. Peter had to teach the others how to play the muggle card game, but they all tried to relax a little before the end of year feast.

### *~*~*

The quartet made their way down to the feast, still a little concerned about the fact that Harry had not yet emerged from the hospital wing. The group passed into the Great Hall and took their seats without their presence being remarked upon and waited for whatever the feast would bring. The hall itself had been decorated in the colours and symbols of Slytherin, owing to the imminent announcement of that house as the winners of the House Cup for the year. As such, most of the occupants of the green and silver table of the serpent were feeling confident in their victory, whilst a smaller group were feeling very smug and were rather obviously preening about their impending victory.

The silence that came over the hall as Harry appeared for the first time since going down the trapdoor was rather startling, only Harry’s footsteps could be heard as he moved to sit with his friends. Many students craned their necks to gawk at him in a manner that Peter found uncomfortable on Harry’s behalf. The enchantment with trying to catch a glimpse of Harry was broken by the arrival of Headmaster Dumbledore, who immediately took the dais and captured the attention of all present.

The Headmaster spoke of the passing of another year and stated the present position of the houses in terms of points for the House Cup:  
1st Slytherin 472 points  
2nd Ravenclaw 426 points  
3rd Hufflepuff 352 points  
4th Gryffindor 262 points

The Headmaster then proceeded to wipe the smiles off the faces around the Slytherin table by stating that ‘Recent events must be taken into account’.

‘Ahem,’ he began. ‘I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes …

‘First – to Mr Ronald Weasley …’

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.

‘… for the best-played game of chess, Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points.’

The mighty cheers of the Gryffindor students almost caused the rafters in the bewitched ceiling to rattle; the very stars overhead seemed to quiver with the force of the sound. Amid the noise, Percy could be heard telling the other Prefects, ‘My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall’s giant chess set!’

At last, the noise died away leaving only exited whispers that the House of the Lion now trailed the House of the Serpent by one hundred and sixty points.

‘Second – to Mr Peter Linnell …’

Peter’s tail went dead still, eyes wide, waiting for what would come next.

‘… for his selfless courage to protect his friends at great personal risk, I award Gryffindor house fifty points.’

Peter struggled to concentrate on anything said in the Headmaster’s speech after that, as he was mobbed by cheering and excited Gryffindors. They were now only one hundred and ten points behind.

‘Third – to Miss Hermione Granger … for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points.’

Peter turned to congratulate Hermione but, could only see her familiar tangle of bushy brown hair. She had buried her face in her arms, having burst into tears. Happy tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves, their house now sat a hundred points up and just sixty points behind Slytherin.

‘Fourth – to Mr Harry Potter …’ said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. ‘… for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points.’

This time Peter was sure that rafters shook, the din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points – level pegging with Slytherin. They had drawn for the House Cup – if only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

‘There are all kinds of courage,’ said Dumbledore, smiling. ‘It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I, therefore, award ten points to Mr Neville Longbottom.’

The explosion of noise at this revelation hurt Peter’s ears but he really didn’t care, he was happy for his friend who was currently buried under cheering and exited housemates. The Gryffindor table had descended into total chaos – exited, happy chaos – but chaos none the less. Harry and Ron pointed out Draco Malfoy to the rest of the table, he looked like a stunned mullet, standing at the Slytherin table in abject disbelief.

The Headmaster arranged for a change of décor in the Great Hall, over the cacophony of celebrations from the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. Gone were the towering serpents and green and silver colours, replaced by the symbols of Gryffindor, the lion resplendent in scarlet and gold. Professor Snape congratulated Professor McGonagall in a moment of rather horrible looking forced graciousness, as many around the hall, Peter included, hoped that next year would less eventful than the one they had just finished.

Although Peter had mixed feelings about what the year just gone had brought in terms of events that students probably shouldn’t be involved with, he knew that he would always remember this feast and he suspected the same was true of his friends.

### *~*~*

The years exam results were released to the student body and there were some apparent disappointments for the Quartet and their friends, not that Harry, Ron or Neville didn’t pass the year, they did with good marks, although Neville did rely on his very high herbology mark to offset his very poor mark for potions. Hermione and Peter weren’t disappointed in their marks, Hermione topping the year, with Peter handily outscoring Harry, Ron and Neville. No, the disappointments were that Crabbe and Goyle had somehow managed to pass the year and that Draco Malfoy had finished in second behind Hermione.

Soon enough, they had packed their trunks, located Trevor and returned him to Neville, received notices about the prohibition of underage magic (which Peter wasn’t provided with), and made their way back to London. First by boat across the lake, and then by train from Hogsmeade Station. As they rode the Hogwarts Express, the group enjoyed their last few hours together before the summer break.

Once back at Kings Cross and back in muggle clothing, the quartet spent a few final moments together, making plans to write to each other and to spend some time together before heading back to Hogwarts. Peter did point out that this would be difficult for him to be involved in, his having to go home to Melbourne kind of getting in the way, but he promised to do his best to be a part of any holiday time hangouts, even advancing the idea of the three of them coming out to Australia.

Harry’s surly relations arrived and dragged him off, and the groups of families dispersed, finally, Peter was left with the High Commission employee sent to escort him to the Portcoach, a very nice bloke named Sam, and left the station to begin his long journey home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of Book One. Please let me know what you think about this series so far. Book Two coming soon.  
Thanks for reading.  
\- PD.


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